


Salvage

by AgentCoop, Salmon95



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Cars, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Emotional Hurt, Extremely Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Prostitution, Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCoop/pseuds/AgentCoop, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon95/pseuds/Salmon95
Summary: In the dusty forgotten town of Devil's Lake, North Dakota, nothing ever changes, and no one ever leaves. On the outskirts of town, Max Glenreed owns a small auto repair shop where he sleeps on the pullout sofa at night, and works on cars during the day. When Max is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, it doesn't make much of a difference to him.He's spent the last eight years trying to forget the past, so when Ash Callenreese shows up at the edge of the lane one afternoon, Max barely recognizes him.Ash is taller, his face is sadder, there's a cigarette in his hand, and his pupils are blown wide by drugs. He looks nothing like the kid Max grew up with, but seeing him again sparks a life inside of Max that he forgot existed.In the garage sits the frame of an old 1969 Chevelle that Max is determined to restore before his time is up.With Ash's help, he realizes that together, they can rebuild so much more than just a car.
Relationships: Max Lobo & Ash Lynx, Max Lobo/Ash Lynx
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44
Collections: Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salmon95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon95/gifts).



> This was written in collaboration with the incredible [Salmon](http://twitter.com/sushisalmon95)  
> for the Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and we hope you enjoy <3

The wind blew hard, tugging at Ash’s sweater and forcing him to wrap his arms around himself. It was October. The trees should have been still blooming now, but winter had come early this year. The ground was frozen, a hardness that was absolutely unforgiving underneath his black boots.

He was shivering enough that his teeth clacked together, his hair was blowing across his face and into his eyes, and the tiny grey headstone that sunk into the earth at his feet was surrounded by nothing but dead, brown grass.

It was hard to breathe again, around the thick, choking grief that sat in his throat.

Ash had been loved once.

The wind gusted again, and with it, he could feel the icy spray of water droplets just starting to fall.

“Fuck you,” he said, quietly, with almost no emotion at all. It was the memory of a statement he’d made so many times that it almost didn’t matter.

The gravestone didn’t respond. It only began to glimmer as the rain pattered against it.

Ash sank down to his knees, reached out a finger, and began to trace the engraved looping script of a name.

The door of the trailer swung closed with a bang, and Ash cracked his eyes open. He’d been lying on the couch, the crappy TV fuzzing in and out of some fitness infomercial that had been going on for at least the last thirty minutes, but as his mom walked in, shucking off her cheap plastic heels as she stumbled forward, he sat back up.

“Late night?” Ash mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His high from earlier had already faded, leaving a blinding headache in its place.

“They needed extra help.” She threw herself down on the other side of the couch and brought a knee up to her chest. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. “Oh Ash.”

She only sounded like that when she was horribly disappointed in him, which...anymore was all the time. He knew she was taking in his entire appearance–red eyes, slurred speech and all–and Ash tried to sit up straighter and look a little less fucked up for her benefit. He blinked away blurriness. His mom’s waitressing vest was one button off, crooked and wrong. The little smiley face pins that adorned it glinted in the orange overhead light, their smiles so bright. His mom’s frown wasn’t bright at all, and her hot pink lipstick was smeared at the corner of her mouth. Her own voice was soft, but Ash could tell she’d been drinking. Grimacing, Ash pushed himself up. “Whatever.”

“We need the money.”

They _did_ need money. There was a stack of bills tucked neatly into a tiny goose-shaped letter holder. They sat there, pressed against the wall by the stove, waiting to be paid. Every now and again (although more frequently than not these days,) they’d get another one that she would tear open with one imperfectly lacquered nail, then stash it away with the others.

There was never enough money, but even though she told him that she was staying late to fill extra shifts, Ash knew better.

He was smarter than that.

She stayed later and later because the casino was next door.

“Night, Mom.”

She didn’t answer, but he heard her switch the channel when the tv hissed and crackled as he padded down the hall in his bare feet.

Devil’s Lake Highschool was situated on a not so expansive plot of land that was most definitely nowhere near the actual lake. The grass was always brown no matter the season. If it was summer, it was brown with mud. If it was winter, it was brown with frozen brittle grass that broke as you stepped on it. There was no in between because this was North Dakota and North Dakota sucked ass.

Ash had never been further than about sixty miles outside the city. He’d been born in Devil’s Lake to a mom who drank too much, and a dad who hit too much, and the older he got, the more he realized the futility of his situation.

He was never getting out.

Shaking his head, Ash pushed fingers deep into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out his pack of cigarettes as he walked out of the school. The carton was smushed, and he thumbed back the top to get at the contents. There were only two left, so he pulled one, grimaced at the second, then stuck the carton back in his pocket and brought the unlit cigarette to his mouth. “Fuck.”

He had six dollars and some change in his pocket, which was almost exactly enough for one more pack, which ought to last him about a day and a half.

“Fuck,” Ash muttered again, resolutely chewing at the filter, not lighting the cigarette yet. The walk back to the trailer park was short enough that Ash found himself dragging his feet most days. School was shit, but the trailer park was even more depressing, so sometimes he just...walked.

As he heard the slow crunch of gravel beneath tires and came to the quick realization that someone was following him, it became clear that today was one of those days that he should have just gone straight home.

“Hey there, trailer trash,” came a drawl from the open window of the bright red Chevy.

“Fuck off, Arthur,” Ash said, not looking over at the other boy, just eyeing the horizon as his feet kept moving.

“Aww, come on–”

“Cut it out, Arthur!” another voice sounded, right on cue

Ash didn’t have to pause to know who it was. Jessica Randy was the pert, perfect little cheerleader that everyone loved, and who was attached to Arthur at the kip. While Ash didn’t particularly have a problem with her, the fact that she chose Arthur of all people to pal around with wasn’t winning her any favors, and her happy little smile tended to make him want to punch through a wall.

Ash didn’t say anything. Instead, he finally stopped chewing at the filter and pulled out a lighter, giving into the desperate temptation of nicotine.

“Those are bad for you,” Jessica called, sounding entirely too friendly about it, like she was trying to start a conversation.

“Fuck off,” Ash repeated.

“Arthur,” she pleaded.

Arthur kept the car moving at exactly Ash’s pace, putting Jessica’s face in the passenger window directly in line with him. She leaned out the window with a smile. “We’re going out to the Hole. Wanted to see if you were up for coming?”

Ash barely contained the glare that he wanted to level at her. The Hole was a popular hangout for anyone who was anyone at school, and it was practically tradition to go every Friday. Devil’s Lake itself was far deeper than it was wide, and boasted an abandoned train track that ran the entire circumference. Originally, the tracks had cut around the south side of the lake by turning in an s-shaped curve around the large hill that sat there. Later, they finally blasted through the hill to make a straighter path through, leaving a giant cavern. Now that it was abandoned, the highschool kids thought it was a perfect place to lay low, drink, get stoned, and remain undiscovered.

In the summer rains, parts of the track were known to move by as much as six inches as the land slid down to the lake below. The entire thing was ready to cave in at any point, so it was roped off with bright yellow caution tape on each side, with giant slabs of wood nailed against the entrance and bright red ‘Keep Out’ lettering visible from practically a mile out.

There wasn’t much else to do in Devil’s Lake though, and so the popular crowd always made an effort to see who could be the most idiotic.

“Ash?” Jessica asked, leaning further out the window.

“He doesn’t want to come,” Arthur taunted.

Ash finally stopped moving and turned toward them both. There was no good reason they were inviting anywhere. “Fuck. Off.” He took another long drag of his cigarette.

Arthur didn’t say a thing, just watched him with sharp eyes.

“Seriously!” Jessica said. “Come on. We haven’t hung out in a while. Come on!”

Haven’t hung out in a while was the biggest understatement of the year, and Ash just scoffed at her, then started walking again. They’d grown up together. Jessica was a trailer park kid too–and they’d been friends as kids, wandering the desert behind their lot, carving names into the dust with sticks, pulling up worms from the banks of the lake with their grubby bare hands. Her mom just happened to start fucking the police chief when they were seven, and eventually married up.

It was right around the time Ash’s Dad left.

It was right around the time Griff died.

It was right around the time Ash’s life ended.

“Ash?” Jessica pleaded.

She always smiled at him in the hallways, bright and cheerful, but it had been months since they’d actually exchanged words, and years since they’d had a meaningful conversation. There was no good reason for her to be inviting him along, but Ash knew for a fact that Arthur didn’t want him there, and that was enough for him to swing his backpack into the bed and hop up after it. “Fuck it,” he said, sitting against the side. “Whatever.”

“You don’t have to sit back there,” Jessica called out as Arthur started to drive again.

“Don’t want to sully your air, sweetheart,” Ash called back. He leaned back in the bed, trying not to think. Arthur was an asshole, but he’d also kept Ash steadily supplied with decent drugs, (although Ash tried his best not to think about what he’d had to do for them.) Right now, he was hoping more than anything that Arthur had something stronger than fucking cigarettes stashed in the tight pockets of his Abercrombie and Fitch jeans–something that he might be willing to share without a cost for once.

The southeast corner of the lake was about fifteen miles out, so it only took ten minutes before they were on the edge of town. Ash was slumped back even further, arms crossed against his chest and eyes wary as they passed the last few buildings before the road stretched to nothing. Straight up ahead, there was a strip club with a seedy motel attached that the truckers from the truckstop next door frequented. He could see the flashing lights of it, blinking the name _Outlaws_ in hot pink and blue. Turning his head the other way, Ash clenched his teeth.

They hit the last stoplight in town and sat for just a minute. As soon as it flashed green, Arthur jerked the car into the turning lane and drove into the truck stop.

“What the fuck,” Ash called down, nerves suddenly fire hot. “You said we were going to the Hole.”

“Just need some gas, _sweetheart_ ,” Arthur called back to him, mimicking Ash’s own words.

He pulled up against the pump and hopped out, running a hand through his blond hair. “Having fun yet?”

Arthur didn’t look at Ash while he spoke, but he said it with so much sarcasm that Ash wanted to punch him in the face. He pulled out his credit card, fiddled at the pump for a couple seconds as Jessica swung her legs out the other side.

“I need some gum,” she said perkily. “Either of you want anything?”

“Need cigarettes–” Ash started,

“Need to talk to Ash,” Arthur cut him off, just as the pump clicked on. “Grab me a Red Bull?”

“You got it!” She said, then headed towards the entrance.

Arthur’s gaze narrowed on Ash the second she was gone. “Got another job for you, trailer trash,” he mocked, eyes roaming from Ash’s grimy tennis shoes all the way up his faded green Che Guevera t-shirt that was layered over a dusty thermal shirt. “You want in?”

“No.” Ash grabbed his bag and jumped down from the truck. “I need cigarettes.”

“Come on. Easy work. Better than…” he looked up, nodding further up the road to where the flashing lights of the strip club blinked garishly. “You know.”

“Fuck off, Arthur,” Ash said. He flipped Arthur off, then headed inside of the building.

Jessica was checking out when he walked in, and she offered him a small smile. “Sorry. Arthur seems like such a jerk sometimes,” she said as the cashier handed her the pack of Extra Spearmint and Coke. “He really isn’t like that. He just acts all tough!”

“Sure.”

“Naa, I mean it. He really isn’t that bad.”

He was absolutely that bad, but Ash wasn’t about to tell her all...that. “Sure,” he said again, stepping up to the counter. “Pack of Pall Malls.”

The clerk looked him up and down, face suddenly much harsher than it had been just a second ago with Jessica. “ID.”

The doors chimed as she left, and Ash swore, throwing his backpack up on the counter and reaching down one of the pockets for his wallet. If this had been the convenience store by his house, he’d be dealing with Greg or Bill. Both had known him since he was a kid, both had been selling him cigs since he was thirteen.

Fucking truck stop.

Finally he fished it out and forked over his last six dollars. The clerk rang him up, and just as Ash pushed the pack deep into the pocket of his shorts, he heard the sound of the truck engine starting up. He turned just in time to see Arthur pull around, middle finger extended as he passed right on by Ash and drove out to the road again.

“Oh fucking...fuck!” Ash yelled, prompting the clerk to glare even harder.

“Get out,” he said, finger pointing towards the door.

“Yeah, no shit,” Ash growled. Then he walked back outside, where all the pumps sat empty, and the hard North Dakota wind blew up dust in his face.

The truck stop was ten miles from home.

He’d done the walk before. He’d done it more than once. Each of those times had been in the dead of night with the heavy weight of humiliation dimmed only by the pills he’d swallowed, or the coke he’d snorted. He’d been too high to care about the rub of his tennis shoes against his heels, and too high to notice much else but the bright stars shining down from the perfectly black sky.

Now he was stuck ten miles out with no drugs to blur the passing time. He had a carton of cigarettes, not a dollar to his name, and an hour and a half of walking to do in broad daylight right past…

Fuck.

Ash squeezed his eyes tight, fists clenching at his sides. Sighing heavily, he turned his back on the flashing Outlaws sign, and began the slow trudge back to town.

The worn auto shop sat at the edge of US 2, its blue _Ryans Auto_ letters lit up with fluorescent bulbs. One of the bulbs kept flashing sporadically. Two had burnt out a few months back, so the sign actually read

 _Ry ns uto_.

Technically, US 2 was a highway, but other than the occasional semi that rolled through, there wasn’t much traffic at all. It was the only major road in and out of Devil’s Lake, but truth be told, most people didn’t feel the need to move much past the boundaries of town.

Max didn’t mind much.

He picked up plenty of business from said semis, and other than that, he kept it mostly by appointment and only saw a few folks a week. He didn’t need to make much to live on. He’d been working there helping fix up cars since he was fifteen, and (accordinging to the paperwork he’d had to sign when he’d inherited it) he was like a son to Mr. Steven J. Ryans, who’d also left him a large enough inheritance to last a good long while. Max slept in the back office, he worked in the front, and as long as he paid to keep the lights on and the fridge full, he was happy enough.

Max hadn’t always been the quiet sort. Once he’d been the star quarterback of the shitty Devil’s Lake football team. Once he’d been academic all-star four years in a row. But like most kids who grow up in rural North Dakota, he hadn’t gotten far.

There was a shitty old cd player sitting on top one of the benches that was tuned into 102.5 KDVL Classic Hits (the only station besides country or gospel Max could manage to pick up). _Sweet Home Alabama_ was currently playing, the second time Max had heard the song in the last two hours, and he did his best to ignore it, sliding easily under the bottom side of the 2001 Dodge Ram that he’d been working on the past two days. The undercarriage was fucked–the car had been in an accident that had completely destroyed the framework, and it had been a more than tedious job replacing each part. His own personal project had sat neglected the last few days, moth eaten blue blanket covering most of the rusted out 1969 Chevy Chevelle, and every so often he’d glance over, eying it with want as the voice back in his head taunted him that there would never be enough time to finish.

The radio cut out.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, sliding back out from underneath the car. The only thing that got to him about living out in the middle of nowhere was the silence. The wind would rustle the sagebrush, the quail would march in front of the place every now and again, their whistling _hoo hooo_ filling the space, and the cicadas would roar at night, but most the time there wasn’t much but his own breathing. The Classic Hits station sucked, but at least it was noise.

He stood up, working out the crick in his neck for a second and ran a hand through his hair, before swearing again. His hands were coated in oil, and no matter how long he did this for, he never seemed to remember how to not rub it all over his face.

The little red light of the boombox was still on, and he could hear the whirring of the cd player as he got closer. (The thing never stopped running, even if there was nothing in it–but he wasn’t even sure they sold this shit in stores anymore, and he had no intention of paying good money for anything else while the radio still worked.) Max walked over and then smacked the side of the dusty silver player.

Nothing happened.

He smacked again.

Again.

The obnoxious, grating voice of Lynyrd Skynyrd roared back to life.

He looked up at the clock, blinked a few times, and then heaved an enormous sigh. It was only 2:48. He’d been working on the car for only three hours, and it felt more like ten.

Max walked over to the small sink by the back door, leaned over and sucked up some water from the tap, then decided enough was enough and he’d earned at least a walk to the mailbox.

The garage door was rusty like everything else in this town, but Max had learned to heave a little harder in certain spots to get it up easy. He liked to keep it open as much as possible during the spring, but today had been nothing but wind, and he couldn’t work with dust in his eyes. It still felt good to walk down the lane, the gusts blowing his hair back and drying the sweat on his face. He made it all the way out to the edge of the highway where the box was before he realized that there was someone walking on the opposite side of the road.

“Hey!” Max called out, giving a friendly wave.

The other man visibly flinched, then started walking faster without even looking in Max’s direction.

This was weird, but Max just shrugged, opening the box and pulling out the weekly ad for Leevers Grocers, and a bill for his internet. Then he looked up again, eyes narrowing as he picked out details.

The red converse hightops.

The blond hair.

The age would have been right and he looked almost like….

“Hey!” Max shouted again, cupping his hands around his mouth, and then waving again.

This time, the guy actually looked over at him.

Max had to blink a few times to be sure but...it was...it was definitely… “Ash?” he called out. “Ash Callenreese?” He could see the guy kicking at the dirt, and the wind carried over the sound of him swearing, but then Ash finally turned and walked over, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his shorts.

“Hey,” he said, not actually looking up. “Max.”

“Ash?” Max said again, still in complete shock.

The kid had grown up. The last time Max had seen Ash Callenreese had been at Griffin’s funeral, from a distance, because Jennifer Callenreese had screamed in his face that she never wanted to see him anywhere near that family again, and Max was the sort to take words like that to heart.

Now, Ash was a foot taller than he’d been then, had at least five more piercings (from what Max could see), and his eyes were stormy and dark–nothing like the bright green of childhood. And he just stood there, glaring at Max, not saying another word.

“Uh...wow. Okay, hey?” Max shrugged awkwardly, reaching up and scratching at the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The understatement of the fucking year.

Once upon a time, Max had been over at Ash’s place every single day, hanging out with his older brother who was Max’s best friend in the entire world. Once upon a time, Ash had snuck into Griff’s room and tried to steal his cigarettes, and Griff had pummeled him in the backyard while Max watched and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Once upon a time, he and Griff were inseparable, and Ash was always around to tag along.

Once upon a time, they were trailer park boys, and trailer park boys don’t have happy endings.

“No fucking kidding,” Ash said. He reached into his pocket and drew out a crumpled case of Pall Malls, then fished out the last remaining stick in the pack. Then he crumbled the wrapping and threw it on the ground in front of them, before reaching into his other pocket for a lighter.

Max crouched down to pick up the garbage, never taking his eyes off of Ash, watching as the kid lit his cigarette and sucked in a deep mouthful of smoke. “Shouldn’t litter,” Max said, cringing internally at the stodgy sound of his own voice. “You wanna come in?” Standing back up, he gave another little shrug and then pointed back to the garage. “I’ve got Coke. Used to be your favorite when–”

“I’m not fucking ten anymore,” Ash ground out.

His voice was so much deeper now, raspy almost–probably from the cigarettes. He’d grown sharp–every boyish curve of his face had turned to rigid straight lines, every muscle in his body looked so tight it might snap at any moment. “No, I know,” Max admitted sheepishly. “It’s just..it’s been a while.”

“I gotta go.”

“Where?”

Ash’s eyes grew even colder, and he let out a long, smokey breath. “Somewhere.”

“Come on, Ash. Christ. I haven’t seen you in eight years, would just come in for a minute?”

“I gotta go.”

Max closed his eyes tight, dropping his hand from the back of his neck and willing his fists not to clench. “If you’re walking back to town, it’s going to take you two hours. If you don’t want to come in, it’s fine, just let me drive you back.”

Ash appeared to consider this for a moment. He looked back over his shoulder down the long dusty highway, and the wind picked up again at that moment, blowing his blond hair back into his eyes. He huffed in irritation, shook his head in a way that was so reminiscent of boyhood Max almost smiled, then he took another long drag of his cigarette before dropping it in the dirt and grinding it out underneath the sole of his shoe. “Fuck it. Fine. But I need to piss first.”

“Come on,” Max nodded towards the drive. “I’ve got a bathroom. Then we can head out.”

“Whatever.”

He took Ash in through the back office, where Max generally, well...lived. He showed Ash the bathroom, and the moment the door closed, he started panicking. All of a sudden, Max was looking around the office with the eyes of someone who hadn’t been living there for the last five years, and he was horrified by the disaster in front of him. The old metal desk was covered in paperwork–five years of receipts, and work-ups, and mail, and anything else that he threw down in a hurry. He shoved all of it into one messy pile, stood back for a second, then grabbed the entire thing, pulled open one of the drawers, and swept it all inside. He looked over at the pullout couch that was eternally in the ‘out’ position, and quickly pushed it all back together, messy blankets and sheets gumming up the works for a moment until he gave one final thrust of energy. There was a moment of panic when he realized that he had no idea where the actual cushions of the couch were, but then he remembered stashing them in one of the hall closets down towards the front reception desk. He managed to get all of those put back on the couch, push the coffee table back into position in front of it, kick the dirty coveralls and laundry under the desk, view the entirety of the woven blue and red rug that sat underneath the pullout for the first time in years, and even grab two cokes from the front fridge. Ash was still in the bathroom, and Max was seriously starting to wonder if he’d pushed himself up and out of the tiny window that sat above the toilet, but then the water cut on, and within twenty seconds, Ash emerged.

“Clean up for me, old man?”

“Old man?”

Ash just rolled his eyes, then walked over to the couch and sank down into it, throwing up his red Converse clad feet onto the coffee table.

“Did you want a Coke?” Max asked, as Ash didn’t seem to be inclined to continue speaking.

“Whatever.”

The kid was seriously starting to get on Max’s nerves, but he tried to smile amiably, then grabbed both bottles and held one out to Ash. As soon as he took it, Max opened his own and then drank half the bottle in one go.

Ash just held his; condensation wetting the palms of his hands.

“So, how have you–”

“Nice set-up you got out here,” Ash said, cutting Max off. He didn’t look up, just watched that bottle as his fingers coiled tight around the plastic.

“The garage?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah I guess...I guess…” Max tried to think for a minute, a foul black welling deep in his gut. He couldn’t remember if he’d been working here when Griff was alive, or if he’d started after Griff died. Closing his eyes tight, he ticked back years in his head, memories clattering against the inside of his skull.

Before.

“Yeah, I started working here summer after freshman year–”

“I remember.”

“Well...the guy who owned the place died five years back. Didn’t have any family, or anything. Left it to me so…”

“So you’re a full time auto-mechanic. Way to use that Devil’s Lake High degree.”

There was definitely a note of sarcasm in his voice now, and Max was thrilled to see Ash actually look up at him again, those dagger sharp green eyes studying him intently.

“Yeah.” Max took another long drink, then set the bottle on the desk. “Suits me.”

Ash seemed content to just study Max in silence, until a tiny chirping meow came from above his head and he shot straight up and across the room. “What the fuck!” Ash yelped, holding a hand to his hair. “What the fuck, dude!”

“Oh!” Max smiled and walked over to the couch, picking up the tiny black cat, who immediately went limp in his arms and started purring loudly. “It’s just Kat. She love-bites. She’s not trying to hurt you, she just likes to kind of...nibble your hair a bit.”

“What the fuck,” Ash said again. His entire body was coiled tight like he was about to run, and now those green eyes weren’t moving from Kat’s body.

“She likes you!” Max laughed. “She doesn’t just do that to anyone.”

“I don’t like cats.”

Sighing, Max put Kat down and she took off down the hall, and presumably back out the garage. “It’s fine. She’d rather be outside anyway. Just don’t stay the night, she might bring you a mouse.” He laughed uncomfortably as Ash’s eyes flicked back up to his own.

“It’s not safe for cats to be outdoors. They could get hit by a car. Or eaten by a coyote.”

“Thought you didn’t lFike cats.”

Ash’s nose wrinkled, and he kicked the side of the couch with one foot. “I need to go home.”

“Yeah, sure.” Grabbing his bottle again, Max finished off his Coke, then tossed it in the small garbage pail that sat underneath the desk. “Come on.”

Ash followed him out the hallway and through the garage this time. There was a pegboard hanging by the door that had a whole bunch of little hooks sticking out. Max grabbed his keys from one as Ash stepped by him, taking in the whole of the space.

“Big,” he said, fingers still clenched around that bottle.

“Yeah. I got real lucky, I guess. Has everything I need to keep me in business.”

“That Charlie Dickinson’s truck up there?”

Laughing, Max stepped down also and walked over, running his fingers along the chipped blue paint. “Sure is. This thing has been just demolished. Charlie can’t take care of a car to save his life.”

Ash walked around the other side, the green of his eyes suddenly so much warmer, his face piqued in interest. “Yeah. Paint job is all rusted out. Undercarriage probably looks the same.” He looked up, over towards the blue blanket covering Max’s project. “What’s over there?”

Max cocked his head and studied Ash. “You like cars?”

Just like that, Ash’s face shuttered. He walked back over to where Max was standing. “Lets go.”

The short ride back was almost completely silent. Max’s own pickup truck jerked steadily along the road, not too fast, not too slow, just barely enough life in it for hopefully another couple of months until he could finish the Chevelle. The radio didn’t work here either, the wind was blowing too hard to roll down the windows, and so he just drove and let Ash slump down in the seat next to him.

He didn’t ask where to go, and Ash didn’t bother to correct him, so Max figured nothing had changed.

Pulling into Sunset Estates felt wrong somehow. Max had left five years ago for the last time. His Dad died when he was seventeen. He hadn’t spoken to his mom since he was eighteen. She’d lived in the same little trailer two lots down from Ash’s up until two years ago, when she got picked up hooking for the last time and was still serving a prison sentence. Max hadn’t been to visit her once.

As he pulled into the overgrown grassy drive of Ash’s tiny, beat up trailer, he made a point not to look over at the trailer he grew up in.

Ash pushed open the door as soon as the car stopped running, and was halfway out before Max could speak again.

“Hey,” Max tried, reaching out and laying a hand on Ash’s arm.

Ash jerked back like he’d been burned. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry! I just…shit.” He wanted to get out of the car too. He wanted to go inside, to talk with Ash more, to not let him just fade into nothingness again until… “Can I see you again?”

Pushing the hair out of his eyes again, Ash leaned against the car window. His shirt was rucked up just enough that Max could see the fabric wearing thin at the waistband of his shorts. Ash pulled at his sleeves again, until the palms of his hands were almost totally covered. “Sounds like you’re asking me on a shitty date,” he growled.

“Fuck, you grew up annoying, you know that?”

Ash gave a small sound, something that was so close to a laugh it was almost real...until it stopped. He pushed off from the car again. “Probably best if we just leave it at this.”

“Probably,” Max agreed. “But I’d still like to see you again.”

A couple of trailers down a woman started screaming, yelling, threatening to beat the shit out of whoever had the misfortune of standing in her way. Max breathed in and could almost smell the metal of the old bent up swing set that sat in the middle of the park.

“Ash?”

Sighing and looking up at the sky, Ash finally gave a tiny little shrug, like there was nothing else he could possibly do. “Yeah. Fine.”

“I’ll call you then?”

“If my phone’s working then sure. Otherwise just come by. Not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“Okay."

Ash gave another heavy sigh, then rolled his eyes and recited the digits so fast, Max could barely keep up.

“I’ll call you,” Max said.

Ash didn’t answer, just walked up the cracked and jagged cement steps and disappeared inside the trailer, the crack of the screen door loud as it smacked shut.

Max pulled out of the trailer park slowly, trying not to disturb his memories, careful to be as quiet as he could.

It wasn’t until he was back on US 2 that he noticed the Coke bottle in the drink holder. Still cold, still sweating, still unopened.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a horrible thumping somewhere near his head that wouldn’t stop.

“Go ‘way,” Ash mumbled, wincing at the swollen sound of his own voice.

It just kept going. _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

There were words too, higher pitched, a frequency he wasn’t quite able to wrap his mind around yet. It was all a sort of buzzing in his ears, and the only thing that mattered was getting it to fucking stop.

“Go away!” he yelled, then he rolled over, trying to find something to throw.

_CRASH._

The floor was so much harder than his bed was, everything was spinning, he tried to blink his eyes open but it just made him want to puke.

And all the while, that _bang, bang, bang_ kept at it.

“Fuck off,” he murmured, then curled up on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest.

It stopped.

Ash sighed in relief and let the noxious burn of the spray paint he’d been huffing take him back under. He was awake enough now to process that he’d been getting ready for school. That he was dressed. That his thumbs were poked through the holes of his black thermal t-shirt and that he was wearing his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt, the Icarus on the front so faded that the outline of its body was barely visible. The shirt had been Griff’s once. That was too much to think about though, so Ash just closed his eyes again. His entire body was weightless this way, he could barely think around the fuzzing. Nothing mattered here. There was no life, there was no death, there was nothing but quiet, blissful high.

A sudden scritching sound at the doorknob pulled him back up again, and then the lock popped. The door opened, revealing his mom with her fingers wrapped around the bright orange handle of a screwdriver.

“You’ve got five minutes to get up and go to school,” she said, irritation plain in her voice.

“Jus’ leave me alone–”

“Five minutes. I’m not leaving for work until you’re out of this house.”

Groaning, Ash rolled onto his hands and knees and tried very hard not to fall back over. She wasn’t going to leave, and he knew it. This was a scene they repeated far too frequently. Ash pushed himself up off the floor and then stumbled over to the door. He brushed past his mom and found his way to the kitchen where he stuck his head under the tap and gulped down as much water as he could hold without puking it back up. The high was quickly fading to be replaced by that awful pounding headache he hated so much, and he could see his mom out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the living room door frame, her white vest and smiley face pins already cinched over her red shirt, so tight she looked like she might choke.

The tighter her clothes, the better her tips, and they were so desperate he couldn’t even blame her.

“Fuck mom, sorry,” he pushed out, still leaning heavily on his elbows at the sink. “ ‘m good.”

“I’m not leaving ‘till you’re out of this house,” she repeated.

There it was again. _House_. The trailer was shit, the park was shit, the town was shit and ‘house’ reeked of a permanency that he was desperate to ignore.

He dunked his head back under again, letting the water spray in his face and hair. Then he stood up straight and shook, water droplets spraying the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, Ash–”

“I’ll clean it up.”

“Just get your ass to school.”

He managed to meet her eyes just long enough to see the hideous mix of sadness and pity, then he dropped his head and nodded.

His mom walked up to him, grabbed his head between her hands and yanked him back up as she studied his eyes. “You’re still high.”

“Mom–”

“What is _wrong_ with you,” she whispered, so soft he wasn’t sure she even meant to say it at all.

There didn’t seem to be too much he could say in response, so he just stayed quiet as her eyes narrowed, inspecting his pupils and watching the way he was breathing.

What seemed like an eternity later, she finally dropped her hands. “Just go to school.”

“Yeah.” He pushed passed her and tried not to stumble. “Going.”

She watched him the entire way back to his room. Watched him grab his backpack. Watched him push his wet hair out of his eyes. Watched him make it to the door. “Ash.”

Ash turned around. His vision was still ever so slightly hazy, but the burning cold water had snapped him out of the worst of it.

“You gotta stop this. You have to. I can’t…” she flinched, eyes squeezing closed just for a second as she took in a deep shaky breath. Then she let it out. Opened her eyes. All the sadness was gone, the only thing left in its place was anger. “Go to school. Now.”

He nodded, managed to get down the steps without tripping, and tried not to wince at the blindingly bright sun.

The bell was just starting to ring for second-hour when Ash walked up, and for a minute, he thought he’d manage to get into school without having to talk to a single person.

Until he walked through the student parking lot and Frederick Arthur sat up from the bed of his pickup. “Hey, Ashy,” he called, “You’re late.”

Ash didn’t dignify this with a reply, just trudged up to the back of the truck and leaned against the side. The smell of weed was faint, but definitely present, and Ash held a hand out. Arthur passed him the joint and Ash sucked in hard, trying to hold onto the smoke as long as he could.

“I got another client,” Arthur said, with a sly smile on his face.

The bell rang again, signalling the start of classes, and Ash vaguely watched as a few last stragglers walked across the parking lot. He took another hit, then slowly passed it back without looking at Arthur. “When.”

“Anytime. Soon as possible.”

“Tonight?”

Arthur grinned. “So soon, fag? Can’t make the rent? Or maybe you just like it...”

Holding out his hand again for the joint, Ash finished it off, then dropped it and ground it out beneath his shoe. “I want more.”

“Money? Drugs? Whatever, you name it.”

Ash frowned, studying the tiny pieces of white gravel that peppered the brown dirt. They sparkled in the sunlight, and looked very, very out of place. “Both.”

“Yeah, whatever dude. I’ll get it for you.”

“Fifty. And pills.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Arthur seemed so utterly unconcerned and Ash had a sour feeling in his gut that he should have asked for even more. “So...tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“Fine.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ash turned and made his way back up to school.

“Max Glenreed?”

Looking up from the dark blue couch he was sitting on, Max gave a smile to the young man working the reception desk. He couldn’t have been much younger than Max was, yet his smile seemed stilted and frozen into place as though he’d grown tired of years spent greeting patients. The little placard on the lip of the counter read Stephen. Max wondered if he’d always been a Stephen or if maybe, somewhere, he was loved and he went by just _Steve_. “That’s me,” Max said, putting the worn _Popular Mechanics_ down and walking back up to the desk.

“Your cards,” Stephen said, clearly already bored.

Max took his insurance card and drivers license back, and was just about to sit down again when the door to the office opened and a nurse in bright pink scrubs opened the door and called his name.

He let her lead him back to the small alcove where she took his weight and his blood pressure, checked his temperature, and asked him all the obligatory questions. Then she led him all the way to the end of the hall before turning left and going all the way to the end of that hall. “I’m so sorry that Dr. Noyes is running behind today!” she offered in passing conversation.

“It’s fine.”

It was. There wasn’t anywhere else Max particularly needed to be.

She seemed satisfied by his answer, and when they finally reached the last door of the hall, she knocked gently before pushing it open.

“Max Glenreed,” she announced, then turned back to him with a gentle smile. “You can have a seat.”

Max mumbled his thanks, then sat down in one of the comfortable lounge chairs that were situated near the enormous wooden desk.

“Max,” Dr. Noyes said, standing up and reaching over the desk to shake Max’s hand. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.”

It wasn’t. It _really_ wasn’t.

Dr. William H. Noyes was the sort of doctor who didn’t really look at you right in the eyes while he was speaking. He enjoyed going over every little technical detail because he seemed the sort of person who would be comforted by that knowledge were their roles reversed.

Most of the time, Max found himself tuning a lot of it out and either watching the geese out the window as they circled the small pond in the back of the building, or studying the business card holder on the desk that held the perfect amount of blindingly white cards with _Dr. William H. Noyes | Palliative Care_ printed on the front of them. There was a small golden desk clock on near the computer and sometimes he just watched this, the second hand ticking in agonizingly slow increments.

“How is your pain right now?” Dr. Noyes asked, and Max snapped back to attention.

“Oh. Well…” Max had an extremely hard time actually admitting to much, but Noyes had known him long enough at this point that he was already bringing out the laminated pain-scale sheet. It felt a little ridiculous to be pointing at a cartoon face with emotions ranging from absolutely nothing, to death, but as long as Max didn’t actually have to vocalise, he felt a little more at ease.

He pointed quickly to the #2 face, its deeply etched mouth frowning back at him.

“Hmm,” Dr, Noyes tucked the sheet back into the top drawer of his desk, then turned back to his computer, keys clacking as he typed. “And how is it at its worst?”

Max pointed at the #8 face.

“And the medication? Any side effects so far? Drowsiness? Nausea”

“Not really. Drowsiness I guess. But that’s to be expected, right?” He offered a little grin at that, but the doctor was still looking at the computer screen and didn’t notice.

“Is it enough right now?” Dr. Noyes finally stopped typing and looked back to Max. “There are other options. We could go the nerve block route. It doesn’t last forever, but should provide you some temporary relief. I still think we should investigate potential surgical–”

“No,” Max said quickly, shaking his head. He’d made his mind up on that the moment he’d been given his diagnosis eight months ago. “No surgery.”

“Alright.”

More typing. Max could almost picture it exactly. _Patient refused surgical advice. Again_.

“I’d like to try a higher strength medication for you going forward,” Dr. Noyes said suddenly, fingers still clacking away. “Our next appointment isn’t for another month but please–” he stopped typing again, looked up, and actually looked Max right in the eyes. “Please call me if you suddenly deteriorate. I still think it is the best choice to have in-home palliative care visits weekly, if not bi-weekly. I’d really like you to consider–”

“No.” That was another thing Max had decided on eight months ago.

There was the smallest tightening of Dr. Noyes mouth, but otherwise, he just nodded. “Then please call if your pain gets worse.”

He only had to wait another minute or so while Dr. Noyes finished typing up the notes, then they both stood, shook hands, said goodbye, and Max was on his way back out of the building.

The drive from Devil’s Lake out to Grand Forks only took about an hour and fifteen minutes, but there was an old-style McDonalds just outside of the city and Max made it a habit to stop in for a milkshake and fries on the way back home every time he had to make the trip. Today, there were a couple of teenagers at a front table when he got there who were shooting straw paper across the restaurant as far as they could, and throwing fries at each other with boyish laughter. The solitary employee at the front was watching them with a frown on his face as Max stepped up and ordered.

It didn’t take long for his food to come up, and he sat down at a booth in the very back corner, immediately popping the lid off of his vanilla milkshake and dipping a fry in. The noise from the boys didn’t bother him much–he was so used to solitude that every now and again it was nice to see other people. One of them gave an even louder laugh at that moment, and Max looked up to watch him.

He had brown hair, and brown eyes, and perched on top of the table like he was king of the misfits. He didn’t look at all like Ash did, and yet suddenly Max found himself thinking of the other boy. Of Griff’s younger brother.

Ash had grown up so much in the five years since Griff’s death that Max was still having trouble piecing together the memories of a chubby cheeked, happy kid with the way Ash looked now. There was something so horribly sad about him as he’d followed Max into the auto shop the other day. Besides the rows of piercings in his ears, the one through his eyebrow, and the one that was clearly through his tongue that Max could hear clacking against the inside of his teeth, besides the chipped black nail polish at his fingers and the permanent scowl that he seemed to wear, Ash had just felt _wrong_. There’d been a moment in the shop that he’d almost broken, that Ash had almost given a real smile, but the second Max said too much he just snapped closed again–hard shell impossible to crack.

_Can I see you again?_

Max pulled his cell out of his pocket as he munched on another milkshake-coated fry and tapped in the pin before considering the screen carefully. He wasn’t sure he was ready to call Ash directly yet, and while he knew that they had an old school landline in their trailer, last time he’d tried to call their house was over four years ago. Jennifer Callenreese hadn’t forgiven him yet then, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that she wasn’t about to forgive him now.

Sighing, Max shoved the phone away and went back to eating his fries. The boys at the other table got up and left, their trays and garbage still sitting there, and he watched the cashier give an audible groan before coming out from behind the counter, sweeping everything onto one tray, and then dumping it all in the trash. Max offered an apologetic smile, but it didn’t seem to matter much.

He finished his fries, then dumped his own tray and headed out. The inside of his car was muggy and warm when he sat down, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, he rolled down all his windows and let the North Dakota sun shine hot on his skin the entire drive home.

There was something about spring weather that just made Ash want to kick things. The day had been warm enough, he’d even come to the uncomfortable realization that soon he’d have to give up the long sleeved thermals for the year. But right now, in the dead of night? It was just cold. Ash shivered as he walked across the abandoned lot behind the old 7-11. There was nothing here but sagebrush and dirt, lit up by the flickering yellow light of the gas station. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he’d thought to grab a jacket, then kept up the slow trudge across the lot and towards the small park that sat on the other side of the street.

Arthur had slipped him a note during the last period of the day. Didn’t say much.

_Park. 11:30._

It was the usual place at this point, so Ash didn’t exactly need much to go off of. They’d been doing this back and forth thing for three years running now, and with the exception of one particularly nasty client, everyone else met him here. Every so often, Ash would try and quit, but Arthur would give him this awful _knowing_ smile. It was never longer than a few months before Ash was right back in the palm of his hand.

Ash didn’t have a choice.

The money was good, and the drugs sealed the deal. If he was high enough, nothing else mattered.

He and his mom had faced eviction so many times in the last five years that Ash would do anything he could to help pay the bills.

There weren’t all that many available jobs in Devil’s Lake, and Ash was damn lucky his mom had one of them. The town itself sat on massive oil reserves and back about ten years, had grown from almost nothing to a thriving metropolis. They couldn’t build houses fast enough to put workers in them, the trailer parks extended further and further towards the outskirts of cities, and there were restaurants, and shops, and _money_.

It all came crashing down in 2014 when the price of oil plunged.

Suddenly, the town was full of workers out of jobs, doing anything they could to get by. There were no jobs left for anyone. Brand new houses stood vacant, stores shut down. The rich got richer. The poor could barely survive.

So here he was.

Arthur came from enough money that he should have all the connections he needed to make a living here when he graduated. But Arthur also had a taste for meth, and so he’d turned to more nefarious methods of making money.

Ash was desperate enough to do just about anything.

It was a match made in heaven.

One of the streetlamps flicked above him as he crossed over, and he made his way over past the metal merry-go-round in the center of the playground as the two swings creaked back and forth. There was at least grass over here, though it was still mostly brown from the cold spring nights.There were a bunch of huge evergreens clustered by the back of the park, and as Ash looked up towards them, he saw the flash of a headlight–on and off. On and off.

Just two times. Exactly like Arthur always told them too.

Sighing, Ash kicked at a particularly large clump of dead grass and tried to feel some satisfaction as it broke apart into dirt. Then he shoved his hands further into the pockets of his baggy black shorts and walked over towards the car.

It was a small, brown Toyota Corolla. His dad used to have one just like it–stick shift, made in 89, still running strong almost 20 years after that. The last time Ash had seen it was when it sat idling in their tiny drive as his mom screamed at his dad, and his dad smacked her so hard she fell on the concrete steps. Ash remembered every single moment from that point on.

_“You won’t fucking get nothin’ from me, you bitch,” his dad swore._

_His mom just glared. Her nose was starting to bleed._

_“Get out,” Griff said._

_“Dad...” Ash cried._

_“Get out,” Griff said again._

_Blood dripped onto the cement stair block._

_“Bitch!” his dad yelled again, then got into the car. The door slammed closed. The engine turned over once, then twice before it caught. He backed out so hard the rear tires left dark imprints in the mud. There was a dark oil spot on the cement that would never fade._

Ash blinked and chewed on his lower lip, focusing on the Corolla in front of him that was definitely newer than 1989. He tapped at the window, looking back towards the swingset as it slowly rolled down.

“You the Lynx?”

The man’s voice was quiet and careful, almost timid. Ash bent down and peered through the window. The man inside was large enough that his gut was almost touching the steering wheel, and his wire framed glasses made his eyes look tiny and beadlike. He looked over at Ash, not quite meeting his eyes, and Ash could see the tension in his jaw. “Yup.” Ash said. “It’s twenty for a handjob. Fifty for–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, shit, I know…” The guy looked flustered, and he wiped the back of his hand against his forehead, already sweating.

“First time?”

“Uh…yeah, I,..shit.”

Ash tugged at the handle of the car but it was still locked, and it took the John a minute to fumble with the switches at the side. Once he got the door open, Ash slid in easy. The interior smelled like cigarette smoke, and the chemical vanilla scent of the cardboard tree that hung from the rearview mirror.

“So...what did you want?” Ash wished he’d had something to take before coming here. Usually he was able to get hopped up enough on pills that he could almost forget about what he was doing, but he was completely out and everything seemed more _real_. “You gotta name?”

“Oh. Umm, John’ll do.”

Ash almost laughed out loud, but instead he schooled his features and leaned over, mouth right against John’s ear. “What do you want me to do, John?”

Gasping, John pulled away, turning to Ash and watching him with those beady eyes. “Jesus fuck, kid. I...shit. You’re...you’re old enough right?”

“18 last August,” Ash murmured. “Legal.”

He was never sure why this seemed to give them any comfort, since everything else they were doing was illegal, but like most of his ‘customers’ John sank back, relief in clear in his eyes.

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

“What did you want, John?” Ash asked again, letting his eyes flicker down to the other man’s crotch and then back up again, as enticing as possible.

There was a whirring sound, and Ash watched as John adjusted his seat, moving it back as far as he possibly could. There was some space between him and the steering wheel now–n ot much–but enough.

“Can I...can I kiss you?” John groaned, eyes closed tight.

That was one service off the menu, but Ash was experienced enough at this point to get around it. He reached forward and pushed the palm of his hand against John’s thigh, letting it ride up just enough to tease, then pushing back down again. “I want to touch _you_ ,” Ash said quietly. “How can I make you happy?”

“Your mouth,” John whispered.

“You got it.”

Afterwards, Ash waited until the car pulled all the way out of the park and drove out of sight before sitting down against the back of one of the evergreen trees. The bark was itchy through his shirt, and every time he swallowed, he could taste the other man, but none of that really mattered.

There was a fifty dollar bill in his pocket, and a small bag of pills in his hand.

“Percocet,” the man had told him, after Ash had swallowed and zipped him back up. “Wookie said you liked pills?”

‘Wookie’ was Arthur’s alias, and it always sounded so ridiculous coming out of the mouth of clients that he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Yeah,” he'd said, just doing his best to ignore everything. “Pills are good.”

Now he popped three of them, leaning back and wishing he had something besides spit to wash them down with. The electric bill was past due by five days, and he’d be able to settle up tomorrow. His mom got paid in a week. Everything was fine.

Across the park, the streetlight started flickering again, it’s orange glow illuminating exactly three squares of sidewalk. Ash pushed himself up and slowly walked back towards home.


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks passed, and Ash didn’t show up again. Max considered calling him more than a few times but every time he picked up the phone, something stopped him.

Ash was different now, but Max was too.

He started dreaming of Griff again at night. Usually, if he took the painkillers before bed then they knocked him out so hard that he couldn’t dream at all. Now, with Ash’s resurgence? Everything seemed more vivid, and he was waking up mornings sweating, and panting, and terrified–the weight of Griff’s death once more so heavy on his chest it hurt to breathe.

They’d been best friends.

Max’s mom was a bitch, but Griff’s dad was dangerous, so most days after school he’d show up with Ash in tow and they’d pal around the grimy park in the back of the complex. Ash was little at first–no more than a toddler–but in time he grew up enough to be a snarky, pain in the ass little brother that drove Griff absolutely nuts, and made Max laugh his ass off.

When things got real bad at home, sometimes Griff and Ash would show up on his porch late at night. They’d pull out all the blankets from the closet and camp out in Max’s tiny bedroom–curling up against each other so close that they shared body heat.

Ash would fall asleep first.

Max and Griff would share secrets until the sun started to rise.

Later on, after their dad split and Max’s mom started getting arrested, Max would go stay at their place. They had a bunk bed pushed up against the side of the room and Griff would make Ash sleep on the floor so the older boys could have the bed. Ash would whine, and complain, and threaten to tell Jennifer.

He never did.

Griff had this plan, this wild and crazy plan. He was going to get out of Devil’s Lake with Ash–fix up an old car and drive across the country somewhere. Didn’t matter where, as long as it wasn’t North Dakota.

“How you gonna get a car?” Max would ask.

Griff would just shrug, his eyes going all glazy as he constructed the entire fantasy in his head. They’d have a car. They’d drive and drive and drive. They wouldn’t be in North Dakota anymore.

“Sky still looks the same outside of North Dakota,” Max said once.

“Only if you tilt your head far enough,” Griff had replied.

They smoked cigarettes because all the trailer park kids smoked cigarettes. It made Griff cough so bad the first time that he was scared of trying again, until Max ribbed him enough that he finally caved.

They smoked weed the first time when they were twelve–scored off of some kid in class with them. Griff got all glassy eyed again, smiling so much the skin around his eyes crinkled.

Turned out that kid had an older brother who was a dealer.

Turned out that dealer visited the middle school a couple times a week.

Turned out that when they’d tried some of the harder stuff, Max didn’t like it much.

Griff did.

The buzzer in the garage rang, and Max pushed himself out from under the car he was working on–blinking the memories away.

“Coming!” he yelled, then wiped at the sweat on his forehead and hauled ass down the hall and around to the office.

“You really need a secretary!” the man at the counter joked.

“Yeah, sure do Mr. Dawson!” Max laughed, wiping sweat away again and stepping up to the desk. “Sorry, got bogged down back there and didn’t realize the time had passed!”

“You need me to come back?”

“No, not at all. I just need another ten. You okay sitting? There’s coffee–”

“Son, I’ve been coming to this shop longer than you’ve been alive.”

With that, he walked over to one of the few seats by the door and sat.

“Yeah. Be right back!”

Max headed back down to the garage. Mr. Dawson had looked just as aged and decrepit eight years ago when Max started working here as he did now. And Mr. Dawson would probably still be coming here for his oil changes long after Max died.

He shuddered, nose wrinkling in annoyance at his own morbidity.

The radio had cut over to Sweet Home Alabama by the time he got back under the car, and Max groaned in disgust as he finished up.

School sucked just about as much as everything in Devil’s Lake sucked and as everything was right about the same level of shit, Ash found himself showing up and going through the motions just for lack of anything better to do.

He wasn’t dumb.

He barely skated by, and he showed up high most days, and most of the teachers just avidly avoided him at this point, but he wasn’t dumb.

He just didn’t care enough to try.

Currently, he was slumped over his desk in the back corner of Mr. Schule’s Political Science class, listening to some girl in a jean jacket give a presentation on Urugay that was less than thrilling.

Her name was Brittney, or Britta, or Brianna, or...something, and she kept pausing to say ‘um,’ eight thousand times, and her cheeks were turning redder and redder by the second. It was humiliating to watch, so he just turned his head, staring out the window instead.

The bell rang, and he grabbed his backpack and headed down the hall to the bathroom instead of his next class. There was a baggie of pills from the John last night in his pocket and he had no intention of sitting through the rest of the day sober.

Unfortunately, his schedule had apparently become predictable, because when he pushed the door open to the bathroom, Arthur grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in.

“Hey, my little Lynx!”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Ash muttered, wresting himself away from Arthur’s grip.

Arthur just laughed at him. “Need a little pick-me-up before the next class, faggot?”

For years Arthur had been trying to get a rise out of Ash with the generic name calling, and Ash could care less. He rolled his eyes, then brushed past Arthur, intending to head to one of the stalls.

Instead, Arthur’s arm shot out and he grabbed Ash, throwing him up against the wall with a surprising amount of strength.

“What the fuck, Arthur,” Ash growled, trying to push him off.

“Ah, ah,” Arthur murmured, studying Ash with his cold, cold eyes, then leaning in so close that his lips brushed against Ash’s ear. “A little birdy told me that you did good work last night.”

Ash tried not to flinch away. “Fuck you.”

“He was oh, so pleased by the Lynx–”

“Fuck you,” Ash repeated, swallowing hard.

This was always a game to Arthur–a carrot dangling over Ash’s head, that Ash had no choice but to follow. He got off on this kind of power. It made Ash sick to his stomach, but the easiest way past Arthur was through, so he steeled himself and didn’t pull away again.

“Got another job,” Arthur taunted.

“You always do.”

“Well, you just make it so easy for me, what with your repeat clients and all.” He backed up just enough that Ash could see his eyes again, glowing and feral.

“Fifty. More if...fuck,” Ash swore, color rising to his cheeks. He fought the urge to look down at his sneakers, and just kept staring at Arthur.

“So greedy. Thirty.”

“Come on, Arthur–”

“Thirty and drugs. Final offer.”

It was so fucking degrading, but it was easy money, and it was his only means to a high that made him almost forget everything. “Repeat?” Ash asked.

“Repeat,” Arthur confirmed. “Dude from last week. White Ford truck.”

He’d been easy, Ash remembered. Didn’t even want a blow job–just wanted Ash to jerk him off. Easy.

“Fine,” Ash growled, finally pushing Arthur back. “Now fuck off.”

“I’ll text you the deets, my man,” Arthur called on his way out the door, cheesy, phone smile back on his face.

Ash waited until he was completely gone before he pulled the pills out of his pocket and swallowed three of them down.

Max gave it another week before he finally took his phone out and called Ash.

It rang for what felt like an eternity, before finally cutting to a voicemail that generically rattled off the digits of the phone number and nothing else.

Max didn’t leave a message. He wasn’t even sure that Ash had given him the right number.

He sighed, pushed the phone back into the pocket of his jumpsuit, chugged a bottle of water, and then his phone started to buzz.

Max tapped on the green answer button before he could properly consider what words he wanted to say and ended up mouthing at the air like a goddamn goldfish while he listened to Ash breathe on the other end of the line. “Hey,” he finally managed, feeling like a complete idiot.

“What do you want.”

Once again, there was no inflection in Ash’s voice, he just sounded barely there, with almost no more life then the robotic sounding voicemail response.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, didn’t want to...bug you...ah...shit. Sorry, just wanted to reach out. You said I could, and I just thought...maybe we could meet up?”

“Why.”

There it was again, the question with no inflection. Made Max want to bang his head against a wall, or just go over and shake Ash until he was _real_ again. Until he laughed again.

“Look, it was just good to see you the other day, and it was shitty of me to not reach out the last few years–”

“Five years.”

“Five years,” Max amended. “And I’d just like to see you. Hang out. Talk. Stare angstily at a wall. I don’t care.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Max cringed, thinking he’d been a little too on the nose with his sarcasm.

Then, “Fine. When.”

Max heaved an enormous, internal sigh of relief. “Whenever works for you. I can come pick you up–”

“I’m busy.”

“Not this second,” Max groaned. “I mean whenever you are available.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh! Okay, tomorrow. I can pick you up...are you in school? I can pick you up from school?”

“I’ll walk there.”

“No, it’s really okay–”

“I’ll walk there after school,” Ash repeated, more insistent this time.

“Alright. Cool! It’s a date!”

Silence again. Max could hear Ash breathing though, like there was something else, something unsaid…

“See you tomorrow,” Ash muttered, then the line went dead.

Max put his phone back in his pocket, a sudden rush of electric terror flowing through his veins.

The other day had been one thing. It was a surprise, and Max had dealt with it, and Ash didn’t really want to talk anyway.

This was planned.

He was going to have to carefully consider every word just to make sure he didn’t spook Ash away again, he was going to have to apologize for...well. Everything.

“Fuck,” Max muttered, running a hand through his hair. It came away wet with sweat. He looked over at the clock on the microwave, just as it clicked over to five. Then he walked over to the door, flipped the sign from open to closed, locked it, and went to take a shower.

The next morning Max got dressed, and drank a cup of coffee, and went to the bathroom to shave, and drank another cup of coffee, and undressed, and dressed in something completely different, and drank another cup of coffee.

He had no clients, he should have been working on his own project underneath that blue blanket, but instead he paced and checked his e-mail and surfed the internet looking at absolutely nothing for far longer than he ever had before.

He kept telling himself that it was ridiculous to be this nervous, but it really wasn’t.

He’d cut away everything when he'd moved away from that park–buried it so deep that he’d almost forgotten it existed.

And then with one simple greeting at the end of the auto shop lane, it all came bursting up again.

It didn’t help that he’d been feeling so much better lately it was hard for him to remember how sick he really was. Max had been filled with a new kind of energy over the last few weeks. The pain had gotten better, he was taking the meds less and less, and something almost like hope had lit up in his chest and refused to be put out.

Seeing Ash again sparked to life some of the best memories he had, but it also brought up the worst–and the worst were what fueled the awful guilt inside of himself that was eating away at everything else.

Somehow, despite the coffee and the anxiety, Max ended up falling asleep on the couch, and didn’t wake up until he heard the buzzer go at the door.

“Fuck,” Max swore, rolling over and running his hands through his hair. He looked over at his phone just as the door buzzed again.

4 PM.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Max mumbled, pulling himself up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

He wasn’t ready for this, and his heart was about to beat right out of his chest, but he took a deep breath, walked over to the entrance, and opened the door.

“Hey!” he said, phony smile and all.

“Don’t do that,” Ash muttered.

“What?”

“Look all fake and shit.”

“Uh…” Max winced, then took a deep breath and toned it down. “Hey. Sorry, but it’s been a while, and I’m nervous. Come in?”

“You weren’t nervous the other day,” Ash said, brushing past Max and dropping his backpack on the ground. “Coffee?”

“Oh! Sure, it’s in there.”

Ash headed for the kitchen and grabbed a cup from the cupboard with a practiced ease that made it look like he lived there.

“It’s cold by now,” Max called. “Microwave is–”

“I don’t care,” Ash said, pouring himself a cup and then taking a long drink.

“So you’re...old now?” Max gave an awkward little laugh, even as Ash rolled his eyes.

“I’m eighteen.”

“And you’ve picked up a lot of piercings…”

Ash gave him a cold, hard stare, and Max could see how dilated his pupils were. He had a fleeting thought that it wasn’t normal, that Ash was clearly stoned again, but the anxiety was still going strong throughout Max’s body, and he couldn’t seem to coax his brain away from the piercing issue. “How many?”

For a second, Max thought that Ash was just going to give up on the entire thing and walk right back out the door, but finally he just sighed and downed the cold cup of coffee before walking back over and sitting down on the couch.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Enough.”

“How’d you get that one?” Max asked, pointing to Ash’s eyebrow.

“Christ, is this seriously all you wanted to talk about?”

Max shrugged as his cheeks started to flush. It wasn’t, but he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Ah–”

“Safety pin,” Ash interrupted, saving Max from any awkward small talk. “In the school bathroom. I was high as fuck, and it seemed like a good idea.”

“Edgy.”

“Tch. Stupid. It hurt like a bitch.”

“But you kept it?”

Ash shrugged. “Edgy,” he repeated. something like the ghost of a smile flitting across his face.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Max tried to sit still, but soon the caffeine of his earlier coffee inhalation caught up.

“You ah...you wanna go to the garage?”

Ash looked up at him from behind a fall of blond hair. “Uh…”

“You don’t have to. You seemed interested in cars when you were here before?”

Just like last time, Ash’s face shuttered, and Max could have kicked himself. “Shit, sorry, it’s okay. We don’t have to go to the garage, we don’t have to talk about anything–”

“You wanted me to come here,” Ash said. “You were so desperate to get together, to have a conversation, to...I don’t know. Relive our glory days or some shit, yeah?”

When Ash spoke in one word sentences, he almost seemed sober, but as soon as he started stringing words together, Max could hear just enough slurring to know that he wasn’t all there. Max watched him cautiously, biting his lower lip. “I guess…”

“Well shit sucks now. Lets see...you want a running account of the years you missed? Griff killed himself. We had a funeral to bury him so that he wouldn’t go to hell or whatever bullshit religious nonsense my mom prescribes to. Then we couldn’t pay the rent. Then my mom started working more, and gambling more, and crying more, and I just tried to stay out of the way because what the fuck else was I supposed to do. I met some guys, they sold me some stuff, I already knew that the shit Griff was into was bad, but all this stuff did was make me feel like nothing, and feeling like nothing is a hell of a lot better than feeling like shit. Fast forward, I’m a fuck-up who’s barely graduating highschool, but at least I didn’t have to feel. Until a shithead from school ditched me at the truckstop up the road and I had to walk home right past your place, and you just happened to be out getting your mail. You saw me. I saw you. You decided we needed to be friends again. Sound about right?” He pulled his knee up to his chest and looked down, picking at the rubber of his tennis shoe that was starting to pull away from the sole.

Max swallowed hard. _You deserve that,_ he thought, and he did. It was beyond ridiculous to expect Ash to come waltzing in, give him a smile, and then laugh about all the years they’d missed. Didn’t mean it hurt any less to hear him confirm that.

“Okay,” Max started. “You’re right. And I can’t do anything about the last five years except say I’m sorry. But maybe moving forward...I don’t know. We don’t have to be friends. I…” he shrugged and bit his lower lip. “I’m not asking you to forget the last five years, I just wouldn’t mind seeing you around. Knowing that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re…” Max trailed off. You’re not, he wanted to say. Instead, he stupidly settled on something worse. “What are you on?”

Ash’s eyes narrowed. “What do you care?”

Sighing, Max shoved his hands in his pockets and wished more than anything he hadn’t said anything at all. “That stuff is dangerous–”

“You think I don’t know that? Fuck you.” He pushed himself up from the couch and grabbed his backpack. “Great talk, Max. You’re just as big of an asshole as I remember.”

“Ash–”

“I’ll see you later. You know, the next time you decide you want to be friends.” Then he pushed past Max out the door.

The horrible, churning anxiety was back, but Max didn’t do anything to stop him.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie came by to pick up his car the next morning. Max met him with a smile and a cup of coffee, and they sat in the office for just a bit to catch up. Charlie and Max had been in school together, and though Charlie was a few years older, they still got along well enough. He’d married a few years back, had a kid now, and Max was more than happy to share in a few minutes of conversation before being left alone again.

Kat came around, wound through Charlie’s ankles with a loud purr and eventually ended up on top of the windowsill, nipping at Charlie’s hair just the way she’d been trying to do to Ash’s the other day. Charlie didn’t mind like Ash did–he just reached up and scratched behind her ears, which was all she really wanted in the first place.

The dreaded _“How are you feeling?”_ question came up only twice, but Max hedged around it easily enough, and eventually sent Charlie on his way, grinning as the old pick-up grumbled down the dirt drive and finally pulled off onto the highway.

He took a break for lunch. Kat followed him into the small kitchen as he grabbed a can of tuna fish and rolled the dial of the can opener around and around until the lid popped off. She jumped from counter, to floor, to counter again, meowing impatiently as he scooped a spoonful onto a plate for her. Then he finally ate the rest of it straight from the can, watching as she pushed the small chunks of fish around her plate with her tongue until everything was completely gone.

The sky was darkening with thunderclouds as he made his way back out to the shop, and Max hauled the big garage doors closed just as the first heavy splats of rain began to hit. There was something about the smell of a storm that invigorated him, and he smiled, ready to sit down and work for hours and hours. The lightening hadn’t started yet, but he could already hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance, and the humidity had swollen so much in the small garage that Max unzipped his jumpsuit and tied the arms around his waist, The pants of the suit were still tucked inside his heavy work boots, but now his arms were bare, and even as sweat dripped down his neck, he felt better. Max reached behind his neck, scratching at the tag on the underside of his white tank top, then flicked on the radio, pulled off the blue blanket, and got to work on the Chevelle.

Every now and again, the lights would flicker, but the radio kept playing, and Max was so focused he didn’t really notice a difference. He’d gotten the car winched back up on the jacks and after feeling at the fittings on the calipers, had reached out for the wrench when he heard the buzz of the front entrance. Groaning, he wriggled back out from under the car and wiped his greasy fingers on his shirt. “Coming!”

The thunder gave another loud rumble, and Max flicked on the last of the overhead lights as he made it back up the steps and into the office. “Coming!” he shouted again, as the door continued to buzz. It wasn’t until he came around the corner to the front reception area that he saw who was standing at the door.

“Ash?” Max fumbled at the lock for a second before throwing the door open and dragging in the sopping wet teenager. “Shit...what are you doing here?”

Tugging his arm away, Ash glared daggers at him, like Max hadn’t just rescued him from the pouring rain. His hair was plastered against his face, his shorts were dripping onto the front entrance mat that read ‘Welcome!’ in faded yellow print, and his red tennis shoes were so soaked through that they looked dark maroon.

“Did you walk all the way here?” Max asked, trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yup.”

Max waited, but Ash didn’t seem particularly inclined to say more.

“Uh...shit. You’re soaking wet, do you want...I have a towel somewhere...do you–”

“I’m fine.” Reaching up, Ash slicked the wet hair back from his face, and wrinkled his nose. “Okay, well. A towel I guess.”

He needed an entire change of clothes, but Max wasn’t exactly sure how Ash might feel about that offer so he let it slide. “Come on,” he said, turning to walk back towards the office. “I’ll find you something.”

In the closet by the hall, Max found a couple of towels. One was the normal sort of bath towel in a generic faded sage green color–the other was a beach towel with _Hawaii!_ spelled out in obnoxious floral hues. Ash raised an eyebrow at it, but didn’t argue as Max shoved them both into his arms.

“Bathroom,” Max ordered. “Dry off, and stop dripping on my floors.”

“Yes, Dad,” Ash snarked, but he walked over to the bathroom, turned on the light, then shut the door behind him.

Max was left standing there having no idea what to do and no idea what to say next. He scratched at the back of his neck a second, just staring at the sliver of light underneath the bathroom door, then sighed and set to work putting the couch back together again. Then he walked back over to the kitchen, cleaned out the coffee pot and set it up to brew. By the time the bathroom door clicked open again, the smell of coffee had taken over the tiny office, and Max was pouring his own cup.

“Coffee?” he asked, turning around.

Ash was standing there, the _Hawaii!_ towel wrapped around his arms. His hair was fuzzy, sticking out every which way from his head, and it made him look younger–more like the kid Max used to know. Ash watched Max cautiously though, like he wasn’t sure if Max was someone to be trusted or not, and the ring of green around his pupils was so faint, Max almost couldn’t see it at all.

High then.

Max sighed, then poured a second cup and brought it over to Ash, watching as his fingers closed around the hot mug.

“Thanks,” Ash muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Can I sit down?”

Blinking in surprise, Max nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.”

Ash’s clothes were still sopping wet, but he carefully folded up the towel into a square and put it on one of the cushions before sitting down. He looked wet, and uncomfortable, and so incredibly lost.

“Your cat here?” he asked suddenly, looking behind him warily.

“Oh!” Max laughed. “She’s somewhere, yeah. There’s an old shed out back that she usually holes up in during thunderstorms.”

“Tch,” Ash sputtered, eyes still looking all over the office.

“I promise she’s not in here,” Max laughed. “You’re that scared of cats?”

“Not scared.”

“Sure.”

Ash glared up at him, then sank back into the couch, finally appeased that Cat wasn’t about to show up out of nowhere. “Had a cat named Pumpkin when we were kids. Dumpster cat. Came prowling round the trailers all the time. Nasty cat. Used to hiss at me.”

“Hold up,” Max said, leaning back on the desk. “You mean that old orange tomcat? Used to roam between your trailer and ours and leave like...dead birds on the stoops?”

Fingers tightening around his mug, Ash’s nose started to wrinkle up. “Yeah. Pumpkin.”

Max was trying as hard as he could not to burst out laughing. “You named the cat Pumpkin?”

“I was five okay!” Ash burst out. “Griff said it was a good name. And I thought he was a nice pet until I tried to pick him up one day and he scratched down my forearm so bad I almost needed fucking stitches!” He pushed back the sleeve of his black thermal and held out his arm for Max to see.

There really was a deep scar there, that ran from the crook of his elbow all the way up to his wrist.

“Damn,” Max swore, putting the cup of coffee down and grabbing Ash’s wrist. Ash tensed up noticeably, but made no move to pull away. “He got you good.”

“Told you,” Ash muttered, tugging at his arm.

Max released him, and watched as Ash yanked his shirt back down and then went back to scowling. Sighing, Max brought his mug up to his lips and sipped at the burning hot coffee, wishing for all the world that he could think of something else to say.

Ash beat him to it. “Why’d you disappear? 8 years ago I mean. Why?”

Now Max tried to gulp down the coffee, attempting to do anything but speak. Instead, he ended up burning the inside of his mouth and inhaling coffee up his nose. He spent the next minute sputtering, and swearing, and spilling coffee all over the fucking desk, but Ash just watched him the entire time with those cold, green eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Shit,” Max finally said, grabbing at some Kleenex on the desk and trying to wipe away the worst of the liquid on the desk. “Shit...I…” he paused, fumbling for the right words. _I tried_ , just implicated Ash’s mom. _I was scared_ was...well. Accurate. But not entirely truthful. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” was what tumbled out of his mouth–naked, terrifying, and caustic.

Ash’s eyes flicked up to him, then back down to his coffee, his entire body tensing even more.

“I’m sorry,” Max went on, wishing for all the world that he had something stronger than just coffee to drink. “I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“No shit,” Ash murmured. He finally lifted the mug and gave a small swallow.

“I found him, you know?”

Of course Ash knew. Everyone knew. The police had questioned Max, the kids at school stopped talking to Max, Mrs. Callenreese had never forgiven Max. But Ash just watched him, barely breathing.

“I just….Griff was weak. Not in that way,” Max fumbled as Ash’s eyes narrowed. “He felt too much. The world was too heavy for him. He turned to drugs early, and I...I’d say I should have stopped him, but I was doin’ it too. We were two trailer park kids. No way out. There’s never any way out.”

Somewhere outside, thunder rumbled, and the office lit up for a second with a flash of lightening. Ash still hadn’t moved a muscle.

“I wish more than anything that things had been different, Ash. When I found him...shit. When I found him he was still breathing. But it didn’t end up mattering.”

“So why didn’t you come back.”

It wasn’t even a question, just a raw, lifeless statement. Max looked down at the floor–at the fading red and blue rug, at the colorless grey carpet underneath that. He shrugged. “I was at the funeral. I mean….I didn’t go in. I stood outside the church though. Could hear the organ playing a little bit.” Max could still remember clear as day how it sounded–out of tune, but almost beautiful. He remembered that, but he couldn’t remember what Griff looked like when he smiled.

“I didn’t see you there.”

“Your mom….she wouldn’t have wanted me in there.”

Ash took another big swallow of coffee and then slammed it down on the small table that sat next to the couch. “Fuck my mom. You should have been there.”

There wasn’t much Max could say to that, so he just nodded.

“What the fuck.” Ash was starting to get agitated, his knee was hopping up and down faster and faster. “What the fuck. You were his best friend. You were...fuck. You were my...you were…” he closed his eyes tight and pressed the heels of his hands against them, breathing hard. “Ash,”

“I looked up to you. You know that right? I wanted to be you. Griff was my older brother and he was pretty fucking cool too, but you? Fuck!” Ash yelled, shooting up off the couch and turning towards the window. He drew back his hand fast, but pulled the punch just shy of the painted cinder block wall.

Max bit his lower lip hard. “I tried to–”

“No you didn’t.”

“I tried, Ash.”

“Not hard enough.” Ash leaned forward on his forearms and threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling at the blond strands with white knuckles. “I know I was just some annoying kid, following you guys around–”

“No,” Max started.

“Shut up. I know you guys thought I was annoying. But you were…” Ash groaned, twisting his fingers harder in his hair. “You were….”

He mumbled something that Max couldn’t quite catch. “Sorry? Say that again?”

“Fuck.”

Max heard that clear enough.

“Just...nevermind.” Ash pushed himself off from the wall and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Thanks for the coffee.” Then he picked up his coffee, drained the mug in one gulp, and tried to walk past Max.

Except Max held out an arm and Ash walked right into it. “Hey,” Max said.

Ash went right back to glaring at him.

“You walked all the way here in a thunderstorm. Seven miles? Eight? Why?”

“Just..got high. Thought it was a good idea. It wasn’t.” He moved towards Max again, but Max threw his arm out a second time. “Come on,” Ash groaned. “Just fuck off.”

“Ah ah. You can’t just come in here like a drowned little rat–”

“Not little–”

“Not little,” Max amended. “Drowned rat, though. You can’t just show up here like that, glare at me with those angry puppy dog eyes–”

“Thought I was a rat.”

Max threw his head up and took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from screaming at the brat. “Okay. You came in here. You dried off, accepted a cup of coffee, brought up your dead brother for all of fifteen seconds, and then decided you were angry again and tried to leave. Do I have that right?” Max didn’t miss the flinch that Ash made when he so casually mentioned Griff, and he almost felt bad about it, but mostly he was more concerned with the living brother, who for all his posturing, and piercings, and general fighting stance, looked like he was going to break down into tears at any moment. “Ash?” Max asked, softer this time.

“I should go.”

Max wanted to scream. The kid was absolutely ridiculous, and there was no getting through to him except...maybe… “Hey. You wanna come see the car I’m working on?”

The tip of Ash’s mouth curved down as though he was trying to find some ulterior motive. “Your car?”

“Yeah. The one under the blue blanket. You asked about it last time?”

Ash blinked, considering.

He was gonna lose him in a second–Max could already see it in Ash’s eyes. “Look,” he said. You can either sit here and ride the storm out, and then walk back seven miles in wet shoes that will rub the backs of your heels till they bleed. Or you can come hang out with me in the shop and help me with the car.”

“You could just drive me home.”

“Oh really?” Max grinned, watching as Ash’s cheeks started to flush. “Can I?”

“Asshole.”

Max just stood there waiting. It took a minute, but he could see the moment that Ash finally gave in, that his eyes flickered downward, that his fingers went to his mouth as he started chewing at his thumbnail.

“Fine.”

“Great!” Pushing himself up off the desk, Max pushed past Ash for a second just to grab his empty coffee mug and bring them both over to the sink. Then he nodded towards the hallway. “You want a change of clothes? You’re still sopping wet.”

“No.”

It was asinine, and the kid was obviously just being petty at this point, but Max knew that the battle just wasn’t worth fighting.. “Cool. Come on out.” And he led Ash down the hall, towards the garage.

There wasn’t a time in Ash’s life that he could remember _not_ being in the shadow of Griffin. Griff was more social than Ash was, he was more athletic than Ash was. He had friends when Ash didn’t. He could take on their Dad, when all Ash could do was cower and cry.

Griff was their Mom’s favorite, and Ash was just a mistake.

None of this ever upset him though. For Ash, Griff was everything, and for Griff, Ash was the same. Griff basically raised him while their mother worked herself to death, and their father drank himself to death, and Ash wanted to be like him more than anything else in the entire universe.

In the end, it didn’t much matter what Ash wanted at all. Griff died, a needle in his arm, eyes glazed over with the high of the heroin that killed him. Just another junkie in a trailer park.

Ash barely remembered the day it happened. He wasn’t sure if that was because he’d shuttered closed around the memory like it was a tiny bug stuck within the jaws of a Venus Flytrap plant, or if he was simply too young, and it had already fuzzed away, like so many others. He knew what his Mom had told him.

That Griff got into drugs with Max.

That Max had gone out for the baseball team and stopped hanging around the trailer park so much.

That Max made it into varsity league their freshman year of highschool, that he’d given up the drugs, that he’d abandoned Griffin.

That Max had gotten a phone call from Griff on _that night_ and had ignored it until after a baseball game. That Max had been the one to find him.

Ash was only 10 when Griff died. It didn’t matter so much that her words made sense, or that they were true. It mattered that she was the only living thing left in the world who loved him, and nothing else really seemed important.

He kept tabs on Max throughout the years. When he was little, he’d regarded the other boy in the same sort of sense that one might regard a popstar, or a famous athlete. Griff was Ash’s idol, but Max was his god.

Max was good looking. He had blond hair that fell in his eyes exactly the right way, instead of the way that Ash’s was always sticking up in every direction. He smiled a lot, and it was the kind of smile that Ash didn’t see a lot of in the trailer park. It was warm, and it was friendly, and it was _true_. He always said “Hi”to Ash, even on the days that Griff didn’t–on the days that brothers-will-be-brothers and even the pull of familial genetics couldn’t keep them from hating each other.

Years later, teenage hormones raging, Max was the face that came to mind as Ash locked his door, laid down in his bed, and pushed his fingers beneath the elastic of his briefs.

Ash knew that Max lived on the outskirts of town, running an all but defunct auto shop, and he did his very best to avoid it at all costs.

Until now.

“Come on!” Max called, gliding down the cement steps of the garage with ease. “I want to show you.”

Ash blinked, trying to clear all the clattering memories that were bouncing around his head. Even though he’d retained some semblance of pride by refusing Max’s clothes, he was still wet and uncomfortable, and there was a strange twisting in his gut that had started all the way back at school, had continued all the way through the walk here, and was still nagging at him.

He shouldn’t have come back here.

“Come on, Ash!”

Ash stepped down the stairs, his tennis shoes leaving damp footprints in his wake. His body still felt heavy from the pills he’d taken earlier. The shit he’d gotten from the John the other night was actual Percocet, and the high was fucking amazing if he took enough of them–almost amazing enough that he didn’t have to feel anything at all.

“Ash?”

“Yeah,” Ash murmured, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yeah, coming.”

Max grabbed at the corners of the blue blanket and pulled, and finally Ash could see what he’d been hiding.

“No way.” He swallowed hard, pushed wet hair back out of his eyes, and took another step closer. “That’s...that was Griff’s…”

“Yeah,” Max said, almost looking apologetic. “Griff’s dream car, right? 1969 Chevy Chevelle. I found it out at a junkyard outside of Lakota when I was nineteen. Brought it back here and I’ve...well I’ve been slowly chipping away at it ever since.”

Ash couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure whether he hated Max even more now, or whether… “That was _Griff’_ s car.” He hated how harsh it sounded. He couldn’t take in enough air yet, and something in his throat clenched so tight that he was afraid he might start crying.

“Yeah.” Max’s voice has gone hushed too, and Ash watched as he pulled the last of the blankets away, revealing the stripped down carcass of a ‘69 Chevelle. The body of it had been sandblasted and rubbed down so it was impossible to see what the original color was, but the frame was in good shape. Ash couldn’t see into the car from where he was standing, but the front hood was totally stripped away, revealing the inner workings of the engine. “How–”

“Been working on it off and on for...four years now I guess. Took me half that just to source all the parts I needed. I wasn’t really in any hurry until…” he swallowed hard and looked back at the car. “Well. Just hoping to finish it up here as soon as I can. Want to be able to drive it.”

Max looked up and smiled at Ash again, but it seemed more forced.

Biting his lower lip hard enough to hurt, Ash finally took another step forward, and then another, and then his hand was running against the side of the car, brushing all the way to the handle. “What color?” he asked. He didn’t know if he meant before, or after, just that he needed to say something.

“Was gonna paint it red. All original.”

Ash gave a little laugh. “Just like Griff wanted.”

“Just like Griff wanted.”

“Were you guys…” Ash squeezed his eyes closed and kept chewing at his lip. “Were you guys like...did my brother love you?”

“Oh!” Max looked at him, eyes going wide. “Oh, no. No! No it was never like that. We were best friends, that was it!”

“Oh.”

“Not that I wouldn’t...or...just not Griff...uh...shit! Why are you asking me that?”

Ash was too wet, too nervous, too uncomfortable to take any pleasure in the flush that was rising up Max’s neck and coloring his cheeks. “Just wanted to know, I guess. You’re building his car. You know. Looks like it.”

“Shit, kid!”

“Stop calling me kid.”

“Shit, _Ash_.”

The way Max’s teeth closed on the _shh_ of his name caused the hairs at the back of Ash’s neck to rise, and he was suddenly way, way too warm. He quieted, and let Max have his say.

“Your brother was my best friend. And he died in my arms. I just wanted to build something in his memory and feel like...I don’t know. Feel like I did something right.”

He stopped, and Ash let the air between them settle so long it almost grew stagnant before speaking again. “Okay,” he murmured, letting his fingers slip into the divot of the handle. “He’d like it.”

Max gave only a single, solitary grunt.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” It slipped out so fast Ash almost couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken it. His fingers tightened around the handle, and for a second, he wanted to kick the car as hard as he possibly could and run from the building, never look back, never see Max again.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind, I–”

“Do I have a _girlfriend_?” Now Max was the one looking at him incredulously, like Ash had grown three heads, and one of them was asking about girlfriends when they’d just gotten done discussing his brother’s death.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it–”

“No. No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Why?”

“No reason.” Ash kicked at the cement, watching the way it scuffed at the toe of his wet shoe.

Max didn’t seem satisfied by this, but he also didn’t say anything for a long time–long enough that Ash almost opened his mouth to tell him he’d just walk home.

But then Max smiled again–warm and friendly. The sort of smile that made Max, well...Max.

“You gonna help me on this car, or not?”

Ash’s eyes flickered back up to Max’s, then back down to the front of the car, where the engine still lay exposed. He swallowed, tried to resist the urge to start biting at his thumbnail again, and nodded.

“Good. Motor’s all back together, but I could really use some help on the front drum brakes. You ever bleed brakes before?”

Ash shook his head no this time, not willing to trust his voice yet. “Alright. It’s easy enough. Come over here and sit in the passenger seat.”

Max’s voice went on and on, soothing over the sound of the pouring rain, and Ash blinked the fuzziness from his eyes and tried his hardest to obey every command.


	5. Chapter 5

As the weeks passed and the wet North Dakota Spring turned to muggy North Dakota summer, Ash started spending more and more time at Max’s. At first he’d just show up at random–sweaty and dirty from the walk and reeking of cigarettes or weed. Sometimes he was so high Max just made him sleep it off in the office. Sometimes he was just high enough to be conversational, and help Max with whatever small tasks needed to be done. Sometimes he wasn’t high at all. Those times, Ash was prone to silence, and they’d work together quietly, a melancholy sort of sadness hovering between them.

Max kept asking day after day if he could just pick Ash up after school and head back here–saving Ash the seven mile walk in the swampy heat–but it took three weeks before Ash finally took him up on the offer. At that point, school was already out. Ash had barely managed to graduate, scraping by in every class with the absolute bare minimum. It actually took skill to be able to slide in on that razor thin wire, and after getting to know the kid better, Max wouldn’t have put it past Ash at all to have figured out every calculation and requirement to do the absolute least amount of work.

Ash was smart.

He was scary smart.

If Max got him talking long enough, he’d slip up and drop random bits of history or literature into their conversations. One particular weekend, Max left Ash passed out on the couch in the office and came back three hours later to meticulously drawn-up architectural plans for converting the back shed to a serviceable storage space.

When pressed on it, Ash just groaned, rolled his eyes, and shoved the paper back off the table. “Just tryin’ to help, Pops,” he’d said, throwing his grimy tennis shoes up on the arm of the sofa in exactly the same way that Max had asked him not to over and over again.

He had smarts, but he was also a trailer park kid in a failing city with no way out. Same as Max. He wasn’t going to college, he wasn’t going to ‘beat the odds’, he was mostly just going to sit around doing a whole lot of nothing, just trying to survive.

Dr. Boyers called Max on the second Thursday of June. They’d planned it–the phone meeting had been scheduled for three weeks at that point because the Cancer Center didn’t want him making the drive anymore, and if he kept refusing any surgical intervention, then there wasn’t much else they could do for him.

Max didn’t want to admit it, but things were rapidly getting worse and there were days he couldn’t even get out of bed. Boyers refilled his pain meds and upped the prescription again at Max’s request.

“I really wish you’d consider–”

“No,” Max said, voice muffled against the phone. He could hear the roar of the sandblaster outside where Ash was working down the rear top of the car, getting it ready to prime. There was no way he could hear the conversation, but even as Max had picked up the phone, he felt the stirring of something nauseating in his stomach. He didn’t want Ash to know. He was scared of Ash finding out. He…

Blinking, he focused back in on Boyer’s voice. “...it’s going to be too late soon. This could extend your quality of life drastically, and if you keep refusing–”

“Extend it by what? A year?” Max reached for the open Coke he had on the desk and drank, trying to do something to keep him from yelling at the asshole on the other end of the line. He’d made his choice. He’d made it.

“A year is a lot of time. You are going against the recommendation of not just me, but many–”

“Hey Doc?”

“Yes?” Boyers immediately cut off his lengthy monologue.

“Thanks for the refill. Now please kindly fuck off.” Max flicked his finger over the red phone symbol and watched as the seconds stopped ticking on the call. There was a buzz of adrenaline deep in his stomach. It had been so long since he’d felt anything other than pure apathy and this...Ash being around? This was different. This was new, and exciting, and–

A crack of sound hit the window and Max looked up to see water spraying from the hose back and forth–he could see Ash in the distance holding the green line, and grinning with glee. His hair was wet, his shirt was soaked, and he was yelling something muffled.

“What?” Max screamed back at him.

Ash mouthed back, but it was no use. Max was never going to hear over the spray of water. He put his cell down on top of the desk and made his way back out through the garage and to the side of the building.

Where Ash immediately turned the hose on him.

“What...what the fuck,” Max sputtered, shaking the wet from his hair. “What the fuck, Ash–”

The spray hit him right in the face again, longer this time, enough to totally soak through the jumpsuit. “Ash!”

Ash finally gave in, pointed the hose towards the gravel driveway that wound around the building, and started at Max, his green eyes flashing so bright in the sunshine. “It’s hot,” he said, almost petulant. “Needed a break.”

There was a pause, a moment where Max just took a deep breath in and started to smile.

And then he rushed Ash with all the power of a former football player and took him straight to the ground.

Ash had started keeping an extra pair of clothes in the shop for when he got so damn oily that Max refused to even let him sit in the car on the ride home. He could hear Max puttering around in the kitchenette as he changed into these now, pulling his ragged Black Sabbath shirt over his head and staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. His skin was flushed, and tanning from all the time spent outside. His hair was curling around his ears–long enough that he really could use a cut. His mom usually did it, sitting him down on the rickety kitchen stool and laying an old sheet around his feet before attacking his hair with her kitchen shears. Not really an ideal situation, but it was that or nothing. He’d ask her, but she’d been working later and later lately–to the point of him not even seeing her come in at night anymore.

Something crashed outside the bathroom door.

“You good?” Ash asked, leaning further towards the mirror and wrinkling his nose. His hair was too long, he had oil smeared across his left cheekbone, and his nose was still peeling from the sunburn he’d gotten last week after spending five hours pressure washing every last bit of that Chevelle.

“Just a glass,” Max yelled back.

Ash went back to studying himself. Griff’s old shirt wasn’t hanging off himself the way it used to. He was starting to fill out a bit–nothing all that noticeable unless you really knew what you were looking for, but his arms were getting a bit more muscle and his face looked...almost rounder. He looked something close to happy.

There was a twisting in his gut at that. Happiness was the sort of elusive idea that everyone was chasing, but it wasn’t a thing meant for drug addict whores. Ash had no illusions–that was exactly what he was. But the time he’d been spending here he almost felt...normal. Max had been this god-like entity in his younger years, but now that they were spending everyday together, they’d developed an easy sort of repoire that was almost...

“Ash?” Max called, right outside the door this time.

Ash jumped hard enough to knock over the soap dispenser, causing it to fall straight into the garbage can next to the toilet. “Shit,” he swore.

“Ash?”

Bending over, Ash grabbed the soap and put back into place, then bundled up the sopping wet clothes from their outdoor hose fight and opened the door. “Wet clothes?”

Max pointed towards the hall. “Second closet there–yeah. The accordion doors. Washer and dryer. Already have mine in and there’s soap ready to go. Throw’em in and go ahead and start it. You want something to drink?”

“Whiskey.”

“Ah…” Max scratched the back of his neck, like he always did when he just wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s only 4...and you’re not…”

“I swear to christ, Max, if you’re about to say legal I’m going to kick you in the fucking balls.” Throwing the wet clothes into the washer, he let the lid drop down with a clang and turned the dial. The water started running almost immediately, so Ash closed the door on it. “So whiskey?”

Max gave a heavy sigh of defeat. “Yeah. Sure.”

Ash followed him into the kitchen and watched as he bent down to open the cupboard right under the sink. There were cleaning supplies there–a couple of scrubbing wand replacements, dish detergent, some plastic bags. There was also an almost empty handle of Jim Beam and a half a handle of Southern Comfort behind that. “Jeez,” Ash offered snidely, leaning against the counter as Max pulled them both out. “Alcoholic much?”

“Speaks the kid who shows up high on pills or weed or god knows what else every day.”

“What can I say. I’m an angsty teenager.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Max grabbed a couple of shot glasses down from the cupboard and then turned to Ash. “What’ll you have, _sir_.”

He grinned as he said it, and even though he was wearing dark blue mesh athletic shorts and a white t-shirt that was stained to hell with oil, and dirt, and whatever else, Ash half expected him to bow.

“Whiskey. Who the hell drinks Southern Comfort?”

“It’s cheap, it’s alcoholic, it does the job.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so Ash just waited as Max poured whiskey into the glasses and held one out to Ash. They didn’t clink them together, or anything so ridiculous. They just drank.

The liquor burned on its way down in the way that liquor was supposed to, and Ash quickly set his glass out again. “More.”

“I that hard to be around, kid?”

The answer to that was most definitely _yes_ , but not in the way Max was kidding about. Biting his lower lip, Ash tried to glare as fiercely as possible while ignoring the way his cheeks were starting to flush. “Yeah. You suck. More.”

Max poured another shot for both of them, and they swallowed that down. Then another. It seemed like they were both trying to match each other, but Max never took his eyes off of Ash and Ash couldn’t take his eyes away. Finally on the fifth one, the burn started getting to him, and his head was already fuzzing around the edges, the heat of the alcohol taking control. “I’m good,” he said, swallowing thickly. Ash rinsed his glass in the sink, then set it down, blinking back the hard pull of the liquor. “Shit, you were supposed to drive me home.”

For some reason this seemed absolutely hilarious to both of them. Ash started laughing and he couldn’t stop, Max started laughing and he looked like he wanted to cry. Max fell back on the couch first, head hitting the back of it, eyes watching the ceiling.

And before Ash could talk himself out of it, he straddled Max’s legs, knees pushing against the worn down cushions, hand pushing against Max’s chest.

Max looked up at him in surprise but didn’t say anything.

His hair was still damp from the hose. His white t-shirt was clean, but bore the faint stains of old splotches and dirt. He smelled like gasoline, and like metal, and little like whiskey, and a lot of like bad decisions.

Ash could feel Max’s heartbeat beneath the palm of his hand, and he could feel Max’s breath puffing against his nose as he got closer and closer and–

Their lips met.

For just a second, Max didn’t move at all, and Ash almost pulled away, claiming it was the alcohol, or that he was still high. But then Max hooked his hand around the back of Ash’s neck and pulled him even closer. He kissed back.

Max’s lips were soft, and his mouth was wet, and his breath tasted ever so faintly of cigarettes and the cinnamon gum he was always chewing. Ash couldn’t get enough. He chased Max all the way down, every breath he took harsher and harsher. Max fingers clawed at the back of Ash’s neck, and Ash couldn’t help himself from grinding up against Max, and then, just as suddenly as it all began, Ash pulled away.

“Shit,” he said, wiping the back of his mouth and hating every single bit of himself more than ever before. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Max was looking up at him, so guileless, so confused, and so fucking perfect.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Ash took a deep breath in. “I shouldn’t have...I thought...I–”

“Why?”

There it was again, that perfect breath of air. Max pulled Ash’s face back down, close enough that their noses brushed against each other. His eyes were so piercingly blue it hurt, and Ash fought hard not to look away.

“Why are you sorry,” Max murmured, lips barely moving.

_Because I’ve been whoring myself out for rent money and you deserve better._

_Because I’ve been in love with you since I was ten._

“Because I’m not trying to manipulate you.” Ash finally dropped his eyes, unable to meet Max’s anymore. The alcohol was really starting to fuck his head now. Ash was always a messy drunk, and he was seriously worried he’d start crying at any moment. He tried to move away, but Max’s hand stayed tight at the back of his neck. “What if I want to be manipulated?” He whispered.

Shaking his head, Ash started gnawing on his thumbnail again. “My dad used to tell me that I was the manipulative one. That Griff could at least take care of himself, but that Mom fucked with him to get me, and I was the reason he had to stick around.

“Ash,”

“I’m not trying to like...fuck. Get your pity or whatever. I’m just saying that it’s true. I’m manipulative. I’m also a mess. And you’d be a lot better off just forgetting about it.”

“Ash.” Max jerked up suddenly, rolling Ash off of his lap and down onto the couch. He settled above Ash, not leaning against him yet, but so close their bodies were almost touching.

The huff of Max’s breath was almost hesitant, and Ash couldn’t look away. He couldn’t do anything at all.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Max whispered.

Ash tried to nod, but even that didn’t seem to work. Swallowing thickly, he finally managed to find some thread of voice left. “Yes,” he murmured. It sounded too loud in his ears–too nervous, too boyish, too drunk.

Max just smiled though, wider and wider. “Good,” he said quietly. “Because I want to kiss you too.”

It was pitch black in the room when the pain pulled Max up from a deep sleep., and he blinked a few times, trying to clear the disorientation from his head as he attempted to steady his breathing, which was getting harsher and harsher by the second. He was laying on the couch, wrapped around Ash who was pushed as far against the cushions as he could go. Even with that, Max was half hanging off the edge, and he was surprised he hadn’t just fallen flat on his ass at some point over the course of the night.

They hadn’t left a light on, because neither of them had expected to fall asleep on the couch together...neither of them had expected any of this. Ash was still dead asleep, his breathing coming slow and heavy. He smelled like sweat and the floral soap in Max’s bathroom and Max was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him again. Instead, he craned his neck, trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake up Ash. The microwave in the kitchen was blinking a steady, red 12:00, just like it always did when the power surges came through and knocked everything out for a second.

_Shit_. Max’s hand was buried underneath Ash’s body, and he tried to delicately pull it free and swing his legs out.

“What,” Ash mumbled–voice thick with sleep.

_Shit, shit, shit._ “Uh...” Max managed to untangle himself finally and very quietly moved to his knees on the floor. “Nothing.”

Ash sighed at this and curled up, nuzzling his nose further against the old cushion, and Max was perfectly happy to let him keep sleeping while he tried to figure out what the fuck he was going to do next.

He had a pounding headache from the alcohol that made his vision all spotty, but more pressing was the almost debilitating back pain that was making it impossible to stand up. He was having trouble breathing through it, and he needed to get to his pain pills as soon as he could.

Except his meds were in the desk drawer.

He was going to have to crawl over there (without waking Ash), open the drawer (without waking Ash,) tap out the requisite pills from a half empty container (without waking Ash) and then manage to ride out the pain until they started to numb him (without waking Ash.)

“Fuck,” Max mouthed, then had to press his fist to his mouth to keep from crying out. When it got like this, sometimes it was easiest to swallow down the pills and then curl up and sob.

Obviously that wasn’t an option right now, so he started crawling.

Every so often, he’d pause, try to catch his breath, and look towards the microwave. It just kept flashing 12:00 over, and over–taunting every inch of progress he made. It seemed like an eternity by the time he finally made it over to the desk and wrapped his hands around the edges, pulling himself up just enough so that he could ease the drawer open.

He fumbled with the container, almost spilling pills all over the floor, and Ash murmured something against the cushions again–quiet, but more insistent.

Max froze, waiting an impossible amount of time as Ash’s breathing levelled out again.

Then he swallowed down the generic Fentanyl, curled up underneath the desk, and kept trying to breathe, in and out, in and out, in and out.

“You good?”

The sound came from somewhere above him, or somewhere behind him, or somewhere on another plane of existence entirely. Max groaned, his eyelids so heavy it was almost impossible to blink them open. “Uh…” “Max? You okay?”

It was Ash’s voice. It was Ash that was worried. It was Ash that was coming around the corner of the desk and–

Max sat up so fast he smacked his head against the bottom of the desk. “Fuck,” he murmured, rubbing at his forehead and trying to uncurl himself and crawl out from underneath his workdesk while maintining some sort of pride. His back was twinging and warning him with every movement, but the opiods had done their job and had numbed everything enough that he could function.

“Uh…” Ash squatted down, and suddenly his face was right next to Max’s. “Why are you...sleeping…”

“Fuck,” Max said again, and finally stood up, silently praising the fucking gods of cancer that he managed without much pain. “Sorry. Got…” There was literally no excuse he could possibly come up with that explained this.

“Uh…” Ash repeated again, standing up also and taking a few steps back. “Right.” He swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet Max’s eyes. “I gotta go home?”

“Oh shit.” Max reached across the desk and finally got a hand on his cellphone. 9:18 AM. “Oh shit, oh shit, your mom, oh shit–”

“Hey, no. It’s cool,” Ash said. He turned and headed for the bathroom. “She doesn’t care.”

The door closed behind him and Max heard the sink cut on. She sure as fuck would care if she figured out that Ash had stayed over with Max. “Fuck,” he swore again, then leaned over the desk and tried to keep himself from punching straight through it. The last 15 hours had been a series of good decisions, then better, then amazing, then absolutely horrible, and he had no idea what to make of any of it.

He wanted to blame the alcohol but kissing Ash was...it wasn’t just alcohol. It was something that had been growing inside of him the past few weeks and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The water cut off, and Max jumped, realizing that he’d totally just zoned out for who knows how long. He hurried over to the kitchen where he got a pot of coffee started and drank two enormous glasses of water. Max had no clue what time he’d actually taken the pills, but his head wasn’t swimming, and his body seemed to be reacting perfectly normally without any of the muzziness that he was used to on them so he figured that if he swallowed down a couple mugs of coffee, then he’d be perfectly good to drive Ash home.

The good thing about opioids was that they killed a hangover headache like no one’s business, so at least on that front, he felt great. Technically, mixing them with alcohol was on the big list of things Max was not supposed to be doing, but dying of fucking cancer at age 23 was also on that list so he didn’t really give a rat’s ass anymore.

On that thought, the door to the bathroom swung open, and Ash emerged–still looking sleepy, and rumpled, and adorable.

“What are you looking at, old man,” Ash said, pushing past Max and grabbing a mug from the cupboard. The coffee had just started to drizzle down into the carafe, but Ash grabbed it anyways and poured what was there into his mug.

“Rude,” Max muttered.

“You snooze, you lose.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? And here I thought you were edgy.”

Ash just stuck his tongue out, showing off the silver ball piercing that Max had just discovered last night while his own tongue was deep in Ash’s mouth.

The coffee started to drizzle down again, and Max waited patiently until there was a full cup’s worth to pour himself.

Ash tried to drink his and scowled immediately. “Hot,” he grumbled.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Also rude,” Ash pointed out. He brought the mug to his lips and started blowing on it, before trying another sip. “So...we gonna talk? About last night?”

“Naa, figured I’d let you angst it out a bit, maybe go get another few piercings while you pined after me, then–”

“Seriously, Max, you are a fucking asshole,” Ash said, but the corner of his mouth was turning up in a grin.

Max laughed, then ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at how oily it felt after a day of work and a night of sleeping on the couch. “But seriously. What’s there to talk about?”

“Uh…”

Ash looked so clueless and nervous that Max almost broke down laughing again. “Okay, sorry. You look like a deer in the headlights.”

“Yeah, because _you’re_ supposed to look that way. I kissed you. You weren’t expecting it. This is supposed to be awkward!”

“I guess I could make it awkward…” Max thought for a second through all of his options, and there was really only one that stood out. “I could kiss you again?” Max reached out and took Ash’s cup from him, setting it on the counter. Then he stepped forward, wrapped a hand around Ash’s waist and pulled him close. “Like this?” Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ash’s lips–quick, quiet, chaste.

Ash pulled away, but his bright green eyes stayed fixed on Max. “You...you’re serious?”

Max picked up his own mug and shrugged before finally taking a deep swallow of black coffee. “I mean, I kind of figured _you_ were serious about the whole thing when you straddled me on the couch last night.”

“But the alcohol–”

“Was it a drunk thing? You can say yes. We can drop it all, I can drive you back home, you can keep coming over here and helping me with the car if you want, or disappear and do whatever it is that you like to do when you aren’t bugging me over here.” “I…” Ash was just gaping up at Max, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow

Max just took another drink of his coffee. “Look. I like you. I don’t usually like people, I’d rather be on my own, but I liked you enough to let you waltz right in and start working on the car. You’ve got issues. I’ve got issues. But I liked you enough to kiss you, and I liked you enough to let you sleep over in my office, and I’d like to continue–”

“Please stop saying _like,_ ” Ash moaned, bringing his hands to his ears. “Fuck. Fine! We’re good! It’s all good!”

“Good,” Max said, trying to keep up his confident air, and not let on that he was actually absolutely terrified of any other possibility. “Now drink your coffee. I still need to brush my teeth so that I can kiss you again and not taste awful, and then I need to get you home.”

Ash’s cheeks were reddening, but he nodded, reaching for his cup.

Max headed for the bathroom and turned on the water, reaching for his toothbrush. He could feel his entire body heating up, the buzz of adrenaline in his stomach growing and growing. It wasn’t until he finished, spitting water into the sink and rinsing his mouth that he realized Ash was standing just outside the doorway. They stood there a moment, both watching each other with the same sort of nervous energy. Then Ash finally spoke.

“I liked you enough to kiss you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Kissing Max was its own kind of adrenaline rush that was better than any other high Ash had discovered. Over the next few weeks, Max only had a few customers come by so Ash made a point to show up by noon every single day just to make sure he got as many opportunities as possible. Besides the copious amounts of PG rated kissing, he started helping out more and more around the shop. He didn’t do much other than hand over tools that Max requested–technically he wasn’t actually certified to work on any of the customer cars, and as Max’s liability insurance wasn’t all that great–but he didn’t mind spending most of the time just sitting around.

Ash was happy.

It was a peculiar turn of events, and not one he could have ever predicted even as little as a few weeks ago, but he was definitely, absolutely, positively happy.

Whenever the work on the customer cars was done, they’d turn to Chevelle. The heat was stifling, and the mosquitos were miserable, and the radio cut in and out of the worlds worst mix of 80s rock, but none of that mattered at all because every so often, Max would look up from the engine of the car, and Ash would look up from the rear, and Max would smile so bright it made everything inside of Ash turn to jello.

Fuck.

When he put it like that, it sounded ridiculous.

Scowling, Ash turned up the volume on his phone as loud as it could go and pushed his headphones against his ears, letting the raw and powerful energy of Led Zeppelin take him away. At some point, he could hear a dull thudding outside of the music, and he rolled over off his bed and stomped over to the door, flicking the lock open. “What,” he said, probably much louder than intended because of the screaming in his ears.

His mom didn’t say anything, just gave him _that_ look.

“Fuck.” Ash pulled the headphones off, but refused to turn the music off, so now they could both hear the thumping bass. “What.”

She sighed. “Can we? In the living room?”

It was her one day off of work, so she was wearing her old purple bathrobe that had been washed so many times it barely had any fuzz left, and her hair was hanging down, wet from the shower. When she worked, she styled it, and pulled it away from her face, and if she was standing in the right light, then maybe, just maybe, it glowed the sort of red that everyone wanted. Here in the yellowing lights of the trailer, it just looked dull, fake, and splotchy–the remains of the crappy box dye she used all too visible.

“Yeah,” Ash said, finally flicking his phone off. He followed her the four steps into the living room and sank down onto the couch, pulling his feet up and leaving her enough room to sit as well.

“Where have you been lately?” she asked.

Normally these heart-to-hearts revolved around the bills that needed paying, so Ash was not only surprised by the fact that she’d noticed anything at all, but left with a split second to decide how he wanted to play off his answer.

“Uh…” _Not a great start_ , his brain supplied.

“You just look...better,” his mom said, smiling gently. “Healthy.”

Ash grunted, and immediately began chewing on a thumbnail.

“I’m sorry, did you want to be miserable forever?” she joked. “Whatever it is, I don’t care, I’m just happy to see you smile.”

Now Ash actually grimaced, irritated by the entire conversation thus far. “Come on, Mom. Bills?”

Her face fell, and Ash felt a moment of guilt that he’d ruined any good mood she might have had. He watched her pull at a strand of hair and start chewing at it–a habit she’d had as long as he’d been aware enough to notice. She did it when she was stressed, or nervous, or anxious.

“I’ve picked up a lot of hours,” she started, still chewing, chewing, chewing.

“What do we owe.”

“I’ve really been trying, Ash–”

“What do we owe, Mom?”

She flinched back like he’d actually hit her. “Ash…”

There were a few things that growing up in a trailer park had taught Ash. Men were assholes. If you were born poor as shit, then you were gonna stay poor as shit. And gambling was an addiction.

His mom wasn’t the worst he’d seen. She still managed to keep her job and actually work enough hours that they were okay. Most months, she stayed clean, and everything worked out just fine, but when she fell off the wagon…

It was always hard.

“Mom, what did you do–”

“I’m sorry–” “Mom.” Ash tried to keep the plaintive whine out of his voice, but he was scared now. They were already coming up short, and he’d been spending all his time with Max instead of fucking around with Arthur’s clients and actually pulling in cash.

“It wasn’t much.” It was never much. That was the problem. It was never much, and never much, and never much, and then suddenly it was a gaping wound. Ash closed his eyes and tried to breathe. “What do we owe?”

“I’ve got $300.” “Okay,” he swallowed, trying to breathe. “You have $300. $300 in addition to the $500 that was in the jar?” His eyes flickered up to their kitchen counter, where there was a tiny brown jar labeled ‘Coffee Beans’. It wasn’t exactly the most stealthy place to keep their cash, but the jar had been sitting there as long as he’d been alive and so far, so good.

“Ash–”

“Oh fuck, Mom. You took that too?”

She looked stricken, like she was about to cry, and Ash resisted the urge to just scream, and lash out. He’d done it before–punched through the wall of the bathroom, thrown dishes across the floor. She’d looked at him in terror as it happened, and he never, ever again wanted to be reminded of how similar to his shit-stain father he actually was. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. We need...fuck.” Ash tangled his hands in his hair and stood up before walking over to the kitchen to study the stack of bills.. “We need rent. That takes precedence. We need electricity...” _Phone,_ he wanted to say. Phone was a priority for him because it was the only way he was going to be able to get in touch with the shitty Johns to make money, but he didn’t really want to think about that right now. Ash studied all the bills, quickly calculating totals in his head. “Okay. We’re already overdue on rent. Electric is due in three days. We need $984 to pay off both of those and we need it as soon as possible.”

She nodded, eyes on the floor, and Ash was suddenly struck by just how young his mom was. She’d had Griff when she was only fifteen, and Ash came along five years later. Jennifer Callenreese had never had any chance in this world, and Ash couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “Mom, it’s okay.” “I’m sorry,” she said again, quiet and timid. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.”

Ash wordlessly tossed the half-empty pack of cigs that lay on the counter in her direction, and watched as she grabbed the lighter on the coffee table and lit one, taking a deep drag before letting the smoke float lazily towards the ceiling.

“So we have $300?”

She nodded.

“And we need $684.” This wasn’t a question to her anymore, this was himself trying to tumble everything into place.

“I can pick up more shifts,” she offered.

Ash looked up at her again, watching the way she just stared at the far wall, hazing in and out of existence as the smoke curled up.

“We have two days, mom.”

“Well, I can get an advance on my pay on Friday.”

She’d already done this countless times and Ash cringed internally at the idea of her asking again, but she’d been working down at the diner for 20 years now, so he didn’t think they’d just let her go over it.

He hoped.

“Okay, so Friday. I have to pay this shit by Friday, Mom.”

“I know. I’ll get an advance. Should be about $200 more...fuck. Ash, I’m so sorry, I’ll go see the landlord–”

“No.” They weren’t going to get any more time, they were already on threat of eviction for all of their late payments. “No, it’s okay, I’ll get the money.”

“How?” She finally looked at him now, eyes tired and desperate. “How?”

“I’ve got a friend.”

“Oh, Ash–”

“It’s alright Mom. I’ll handle it.”

He penned down the number $484, scribbling around the margins and outlining it again and again, a hot flush of nausea threatening to overtake him. There was only one way he was going to make that money in two days.

Dino.

Despite the number of times Max had offered to just go and pick Ash up, most days, he still insisted on walking his way down to the shop. Max didn’t press him on it–Ash was the sort who seemed to thrive on an exact schedule, so this was probably part of it. Now that it was summer, he showed up by noon every day like clockwork–never more than fifteen minutes off. He’d help out for a while, or just crash on the couch. And then, like some unspoken agreement between the two of them, Max would drive him home again around 7.

Lately, they’d added a bit more to that repertoire.

Kissing Ash was exciting in a way that Max hadn’t felt in ages. He tried not to think about the inner complexities of the thing (like that Ash’s mother hated his guts, or that Ash was barely legal, or that Max was _dying of cancer_ ,) and instead just relished the way his stomach tightened a little bit every time Ash smiled, or the way Ash would curl a hand around the back of Max’s neck and pull him close.

It had seemed so sudden, but even though only a few weeks had passed since that first kiss in the quiet calm of the office, it felt more real than anything Max had ever had.

_It’s just a passing phase_ , he tried to tell himself. _He’ll move on quick, and no harm will come of it._ He tried desperately to ignore the rational side of his brain, the part screaming at him that Ash would get hurt and Max would be responsible. Again.

The buzzer in the garage went off signalling that someone was at the front office, and Max scooted out quick from underneath the old Honda he’d been working on. “Coming,” he yelled, loud enough that it ought to be heard.

He wiped his hands on the towel by the door, then looked up at the clock. It was 12:36 and Ash still hadn’t come by. Unusual, but not the end of the world.

His old highschool football coach was standing at the counter, looking around the office with a pinched frown.

“Hey, Mr. Jacoby,” Max said, coming around the corner. “Car trouble?”

“Eh.”

Max just stood his ground, waiting. The guy had come in a few times over the year for oil changes–nothing more. Mostly he used it as time to berate Max for not taking him up on the offer he’d made four years back to be the assistant coach at the school.

“Think I’m coming up on oil needing to be changed.”

Nodding, Max grabbed the small receipt pad he had stashed in the corner of the counter. “Same as always, then?”

“You’re wasting your talent.”

And here it was. Same spiel he’d heard a dozen times. “I appreciate the offer, sir, I really do. But I’m pretty happy out here.”

“You’re a kid, living alone, working on cars and wasting your life away.”

Shrugging, Max ripped the receipt off the pad and handed it over. “You parked in front?”

Mr. Jacoby handed over the keys. “Yep. Wife’ll take me home”

“Sounds good.” Max walked the man out the door just as Ash was sauntering in, hands deep in his pockets, headphone on blasting bass lines so loud it almost vibrated the ground. “Hey,” Max said, but Ash just shouldered past him, not looking up.

“That…” Jacoby paused for a second, ignoring Max as he tried to tug him forward. “Callenreese, right? That kid’s a good for nothing–”

“Right,” Max said, still tugging at the man. “That your wife’s car over there?” he asked, trying to get Jacoby back on track.

“He the one whose brother overdosed?”

Max smiled through his teeth. “I’ll be done by four. You can come by anytime after that till about 6.”

“He’s trouble,” Jacoby muttered, then he finally headed over to where his wife was idling. “You think about it, Max,” he called before slamming the door closed. The car slowly made its way out of the parking lot, gravel rumbling beneath the tires, and Max was left wondering if he was supposed to think about Ash, or supposed to think about coaching football, or supposed to think about something else entirely. Rolling his eyes, he trudged back inside, the little bells that were hung on the door handle tinkling behind him.

Ash was collapsed on the couch, both eyes closed.

“Hey,” Max called, grabbing at the receipt pad again and tearing another page. He balled it up and threw it at Ash, watching as it bounced off his nose.

“Fuck off,” Ash groaned, rolling over.

Max ignored him–just tore off another sheet, balled it up and threw it. Did it again. And again.

“ _Max!_ ” Ash whined, throwing an arm up over his eyes.

“Don’t come wandering into my shop if you don’t want attention there, kiddo.” Max smiled big, and then launched himself across the office and landed on top of Ash, pinning him down against the couch and kissing him deeply.

Ash jerked back like he’d been hit, eyes blinking slowly enough that Max could tell he was massively high on something again.

“Sorry.” Max apologized, pushing himself back up.

“Fuck,” Ash groaned again. “I didn’t mean that.”

They hadn’t gone any further than kissing, and as much as Max wanted to push those boundaries, he could confidently say that he’d be happy even if kissing was the only thing they ever did. But right now, Ash was looking just past him, eyes tight and narrow and body held tense. Max reached out cautiously, placing his hand on Ash’s knee. “You alright?”

“Not a wounded animal. You don’t have to treat me like it,”

His words were slurring just a little, but he didn’t push Max away this time.

“Okay,” Max said carefully. “Sorry.”

Ash leaned forward with a funny look on his face, then kissed Max before sinking back down again and wiping his hand against the back of his mouth. “You see Griff when you kiss me?”

Max blinked in surprise. “Uh..”

“I mean when you look at me. Do you see Griff?”

“I don’t–” Max cut off, swallowing hard. “Are you asking me if I’m kissing you because you’re my substitute for your brother?”

“I guess.”

Suddenly Ash wasn’t even meeting Max’s eyes, was just trying to look past him. Max reached down and gently turned his chin back, but Ash just smacked his hand away.

“It’s fine, if that’s what this is. I don’t care.” He started trying to bring a finger up to his mouth to chew on, but Max gently tapped that too, causing Ash to growl quietly in protest.

“I think you do care,” Max started. “And I don’t–”

“I don’t care. I really don’t. I just wanted to know. I don’t know, whatever–”

“Ash.” He said this more firmly, watched as Ash finally met his eyes again. Ash would get this way every now and again, just talking, talking, talking as his anxiety continued to spiral. Max was getting better at handling it, but this somehow felt different. He backed up, pushing Ash’s legs around far enough that he had a space to just sit on the couch where he wasn’t hovering over Ash. “I want to kiss you. Not your brother.”

“It’s weird though, isn’t it? You were always hanging with him, and now–”

“You aren’t your brother, okay? He was my best friend. You are my…” now he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable without a name to put to whatever they actually were.

Ash sat up and brought his thumbnail back to his mouth. Max tried to hit it away again, but Ash just jerked back and scowled at him. “Cut it out,” he murmured, chewing at the nail bed.

“You cut it out!”

Ash stayed quiet, finger still in his mouth. He’d painted his nails black at some point, and it was chipped back almost all the way to his cuticles.

“Okay, fine. Chew your fingers off for all I care. I want to kiss you, not Griff.”

Ash stared at him for a second, then his eyes flickered back down again and he threw himself back down the couch. “Fine. Cool. Whatever. I need to sleep.”

“Oh…”

“I got too fucked up. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Max studied him for a second, then eased on the other side of the couch, careful not to touch Ash again, but facing him so that he could see every breath Ash took. “Can I stay here?”

“Fine.”

Max watched Ash close his eyes. They lay there in quiet for a few minutes as the muted sound of guitar riffs trickled in through the garage door from the radio. Then Ash’s eyes flickered open again.

“You’re staring at me.”

Shrugging, Max tried to grin. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

Ash rolled over onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Bad day,” he said, muffled against his arms.

“Do you...you can tell me? If you need to?”

“Fuck.” Ash gave a tiny, broken sounding laugh. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Sorry I got fucked up. I just need to sleep it off, okay?”

“Okay.” Max watched him for just a couple more seconds, then carefully stood up. He knew that if he pushed too hard at anything, Ash would just run again so it seemed the safer option to just leave him be, even though there was a sickening twist of worry in his gut. “I gotta do Mr. Jacoby’s oil change. I’ll be in the garage?”

Ash grunted in response, and there wasn’t anything else for Max to do but head back out to work.

Ash didn’t join him the rest of the afternoon. It had happened before–usually if he was too high, he’d just spend the entire day sleeping. This was different though. There was something about the vulnerability in his eyes when he’d asked Max about Griff coupled with the fact that he was more drugged out then Max had ever seen him that made that flicker of worry curl tighter and tighter in Max’s gut.

It was right around 3:30 that Max finished Mr. Jacoby’s car, and right about 3:45 that Mr. Jacoby pulled into the lot. Max met him right outside the garage so that he could spare them both the long-winded explanation he’d have to come up with to explain away Ash’s presence on the couch. As soon as he handed the keys back over and got Mr. Jacoby off his lot, he headed back in through the garage, washed his hands in the sink by the door, and then stepped through the door to the hallway.

“...I get that, but I don’t want to–”

Silence. “I know. I know I need the money. I just…fine. I said fine, Arthur.”

Ash sounded frustrated and completely defeated with whoever was on the other end of the line, and Max had the sneaking suspicion that he was absolutely not supposed to be hearing any of this. He squeezed his eyes closed tight, warring between making a noise so that Ash would know he was coming down the hallway, or staying put and listening in more.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Ash repeated, sounding more and more like he was about to snap. “Just text me. Yeah, obviously tonight. I know.”

Then there was silence that lasted long enough for Max to take in a breath and–

“I know you’re in here.”

Ash was definitely referring to Max now, calling down the length of the hallway.

“Uhh, yeah, just finished out there–” he unzipped his jumpsuit, pulling his arms out of it as he walked down the hall and came out in sight of Ash. “You okay?”

Ash’s hair was all matted to one side of his face, and he still had pillow marks indented into his cheek. He looked like he’d been sleeping there 3 years instead of 3 hours, and it was so cute Max just had to walk up and kiss him.

Except Ash flinched the smallest amount as their lips met, just like he had earlier.

“Ash?” Max asked, drawing back. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Ash pulled away from Max and headed towards the kitchen. “Just need water. Then you can take me home?”

“Already?” The sink popped on and Ash filled his glass, then swallowed it all down before turning back to Max and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know I’m acting like an ass today, I’ve just had something come up–”

“It’s alright.” Max shrugged further out of the jumpsuit letting it drop to the floor and stepping out. “I just need a shower really quick, cool?” He’d sweat through both his undershirt and mesh athletic shorts that he’d been wearing underneath and was uncomfortable enough that he didn’t really want to be driving home while stinking this much.

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated, still studying Ash. There was something so off, and he just couldn’t figure it out. Ash had sobered up enough to sound almost normal again, but something about the way Ash was holding himself was wrong. He was just tense enough that he might run at any moment and he looked more like the Ash who’d accidentally shown up a month back than the Ash who’d begun to open up. The Ash who was kind, and who smiled, and was _happy_.

“You going?” Ash asked, turning to fill the glass again.

“Yeah,” Max said, and headed to the shower.

Despite his suspicion that something was wrong, the ride home proved as uneventful as it usually was. Ash tried to get into an argument about The Clash being better than The Ramones, and Max argued just as hard in favor of the other way. The day was muggy and humid, but there was just enough wind that with the windows down, they could pretend they weren’t about to melt.

“You ever think about leaving here?” Ash asked, clearly ready to end the seemingly unending punk rock battle of 2020. Max spared a look at him real quick. Ash was staring out the window, not looking at Max, but he had a sort dreamy expression on his face like he was watching some other place roll by as they drove. “Yeah,” Max said, turning back to the road. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why haven’t you?”

That actual answer to that question didn’t seem the sort that was great to begin on a ten minute drive back to the trailer park, but Max knew he had to say something. “It’s hard to get out, right? I mean...I’m happy here. I have my shop. My cars. I don’t need much else.”

“You have me,” Ash pointed out, terse, but also heavily sarcastic.

“Okay,” Max laughed. “I have you also. Why, you ever think of leaving?”

“Fucking obviously.” Then he looked back out the window.

A minute passed, then two, the silence lying heavy between them. A cattle truck passed them on the other side of the highway, and the stench of fear and manure got so thick for a second Max thought he might suffocate. Then it was gone, rumbling down the road, and Ash still hadn’t moved.

“I want to drive somewhere,” Max said, desperate to break the stifling air.

Ash turned his head just enough that Max could see him watching. “Where?”

“I guess…” Shrugging, Max started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess I just really want to see the ocean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The Pacific. Just once, you know? Doesn’t need to be anything crazy. I just want to drive on out of town and keep going, not look back, just drive and drive till I’m there. It’s crazy, I know it’s this idealized notion of...whatever...but I just want to smell the air there. Watch the waves roll in. It’s so enormous, right? Like…to stand there and realize the scope of the world...I don’t know.” “Yeah,” Ash said again, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

“What about you?”

“New York.” The answer came so quick it was obvious that Ash had already been thinking about it.

“Like the city? I think that would be...loud.”

“Yeah…” That dreamlike expression was back, and there was the ghost of a smile on Ash’s lips. “I just want to go somewhere that it’s possible to be forgotten.”

Max frowned. “That sounds really depressing?”

“Speaks you, whose only dream is to drive 2000 miles by themselves.”

He had a point.

“I just...” Ash continued, “here I’m one person, you know? Like, I’m trailer trash, I’m poor, I barely passed highschool, and I spend my waking hours getting high and doing jack shit. Everyone knows that, there isn’t another...me.”

“I don’t think that’s true–”

“Naa. It is. But in New York City? I could get lost. I could be anyone I wanted to be. No one knows my story, no one knows my past…” he shrugged, then kicked a foot up on the dash. “Just seems like a good place to start over.”

The rubber of the sole had peeled away from the backing of the heel of his shoe, and Max could see the smallest sliver of Ash’s sock underneath. He was suddenly uncomfortable, like he’d given a piece of himself away that no one else had ever been privy to, and that Ash had done the same, and now they were tied together in a knot that was getting increasingly hard to seperate and once Ash found out the truth…

“Max! Here!”

Max snapped back to attention and braked hard, almost missing the entrance to the trailer park. “Shit, sorry–”

“You zoned out, you’re worse than me!”

“Nothing is worse than you.”

“You are.”

Max almost smacked him across the head, but he sounded so more like himself than compared to a few hours ago that Max’s relief overshadowed everything else.

Until they pulled into Ash’s driveway and saw Ash’s mom standing there in a purple bathrobe as she smoked a cigarette. She looked up and saw Max, and suddenly Max was frozen under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks? Max?” Ash was already halfway out of the car, but he leaned back in, looking at Max with concern.

“Ah…”

“Hey, you wanna come in for a bit? Mom!” he turned, calling out to Mrs. Callenreese. “Look who's here!”

_Look who’s here_. Internally, Max flinched. Ash made it sound like Max stopped by every Sunday afternoon for tea, rather than the truth: Max hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Callenreese in over four years, and the last time he’d set foot in their trailer was when Griffin died.

“I can see,” she said drily, continuing to smoke and glare at Max.

“Ah, I should get back,” Max stammered out.

“Alright,” Ash shrugged. “Whatever.” Then he crawled over the seat and kissed Max, just long enough so that the little ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against Max’s lips.

Max kissed back, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mrs. Callenreese as her frown grew deeper and deeper.


	7. Chapter 7

  
Kissing Max was its own kind of adrenaline rush that was better than any other high Ash had discovered. Over the next few weeks, Max only had a few customers come by so Ash made a point to show up by noon every single day just to make sure he got as many opportunities as possible. Besides the copious amounts of PG rated kissing, he started helping out more and more around the shop. He didn’t do much other than hand over tools that Max requested–technically he wasn’t actually certified to work on any of the customer cars, and as Max’s liability insurance wasn’t all that great–but he didn’t mind spending most of the time just sitting around.

Ash was happy.

It was a peculiar turn of events, and not one he could have ever predicted even as little as a few weeks ago, but he was definitely, absolutely, positively happy.

Whenever the work on the customer cars was done, they’d turn to Chevelle. The heat was stifling, and the mosquitos were miserable, and the radio cut in and out of the worlds worst mix of 80s rock, but none of that mattered at all because every so often, Max would look up from the engine of the car, and Ash would look up from the rear, and Max would smile so bright it made everything inside of Ash turn to jello.

Fuck.

When he put it like that, it sounded ridiculous.

Scowling, Ash turned up the volume on his phone as loud as it could go and pushed his headphones against his ears, letting the raw and powerful energy of Led Zeppelin take him away. At some point, he could hear a dull thudding outside of the music, and he rolled over off his bed and stomped over to the door, flicking the lock open. “What,” he said, probably much louder than intended because of the screaming in his ears.

His mom didn’t say anything, just gave him _that_ look.

“Fuck.” Ash pulled the headphones off, but refused to turn the music off, so now they could both hear the thumping bass. “What.”

She sighed. “Can we? In the living room?”

It was her one day off of work, so she was wearing her old purple bathrobe that had been washed so many times it barely had any fuzz left, and her hair was hanging down, wet from the shower. When she worked, she styled it, and pulled it away from her face, and if she was standing in the right light, then maybe, just maybe, it glowed the sort of red that everyone wanted. Here in the yellowing lights of the trailer, it just looked dull, fake, and splotchy–the remains of the crappy box dye she used all too visible.

“Yeah,” Ash said, finally flicking his phone off. He followed her the four steps into the living room and sank down onto the couch, pulling his feet up and leaving her enough room to sit as well.

“Where have you been lately?” she asked.

Normally these heart-to-hearts revolved around the bills that needed paying, so Ash was not only surprised by the fact that she’d noticed anything at all, but left with a split second to decide how he wanted to play off his answer.

“Uh…” _Not a great start_ , his brain supplied.

“You just look...better,” his mom said, smiling gently. “Healthy.”

Ash grunted, and immediately began chewing on a thumbnail.

“I’m sorry, did you want to be miserable forever?” she joked. “Whatever it is, I don’t care, I’m just happy to see you smile.”

Now Ash actually grimaced, irritated by the entire conversation thus far. “Come on, Mom. Bills?”

Her face fell, and Ash felt a moment of guilt that he’d ruined any good mood she might have had. He watched her pull at a strand of hair and start chewing at it–a habit she’d had as long as he’d been aware enough to notice. She did it when she was stressed, or nervous, or anxious.

“I’ve picked up a lot of hours,” she started, still chewing, chewing, chewing.

“What do we owe.”

“I’ve really been trying, Ash–”

“What do we owe, Mom?”

She flinched back like he’d actually hit her. “Ash…”

There were a few things that growing up in a trailer park had taught Ash. Men were assholes. If you were born poor as shit, then you were gonna stay poor as shit. And gambling was an addiction.

His mom wasn’t the worst he’d seen. She still managed to keep her job and actually work enough hours that they were okay. Most months, she stayed clean, and everything worked out just fine, but when she fell off the wagon…

It was always hard.

“Mom, what did you do–”

“I’m sorry–” “Mom.” Ash tried to keep the plaintive whine out of his voice, but he was scared now. They were already coming up short, and he’d been spending all his time with Max instead of fucking around with Arthur’s clients and actually pulling in cash.

“It wasn’t much.” It was never much. That was the problem. It was never much, and never much, and never much, and then suddenly it was a gaping wound. Ash closed his eyes and tried to breathe. “What do we owe?”

“I’ve got $300.” “Okay,” he swallowed, trying to breathe. “You have $300. $300 in addition to the $500 that was in the jar?” His eyes flickered up to their kitchen counter, where there was a tiny brown jar labeled ‘Coffee Beans’. It wasn’t exactly the most stealthy place to keep their cash, but the jar had been sitting there as long as he’d been alive and so far, so good.

“Ash–”

“Oh fuck, Mom. You took that too?”

She looked stricken, like she was about to cry, and Ash resisted the urge to just scream, and lash out. He’d done it before–punched through the wall of the bathroom, thrown dishes across the floor. She’d looked at him in terror as it happened, and he never, ever again wanted to be reminded of how similar to his shit-stain father he actually was. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. We need...fuck.” Ash tangled his hands in his hair and stood up before walking over to the kitchen to study the stack of bills.. “We need rent. That takes precedence. We need electricity...” _Phone,_ he wanted to say. Phone was a priority for him because it was the only way he was going to be able to get in touch with the shitty Johns to make money, but he didn’t really want to think about that right now. Ash studied all the bills, quickly calculating totals in his head. “Okay. We’re already overdue on rent. Electric is due in three days. We need $984 to pay off both of those and we need it as soon as possible.”

She nodded, eyes on the floor, and Ash was suddenly struck by just how young his mom was. She’d had Griff when she was only fifteen, and Ash came along five years later. Jennifer Callenreese had never had any chance in this world, and Ash couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “Mom, it’s okay.” “I’m sorry,” she said again, quiet and timid. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.”

Ash wordlessly tossed the half-empty pack of cigs that lay on the counter in her direction, and watched as she grabbed the lighter on the coffee table and lit one, taking a deep drag before letting the smoke float lazily towards the ceiling.

“So we have $300?”

She nodded.

“And we need $684.” This wasn’t a question to her anymore, this was himself trying to tumble everything into place.

“I can pick up more shifts,” she offered.

Ash looked up at her again, watching the way she just stared at the far wall, hazing in and out of existence as the smoke curled up.

“We have two days, mom.”

“Well, I can get an advance on my pay on Friday.”

She’d already done this countless times and Ash cringed internally at the idea of her asking again, but she’d been working down at the diner for 20 years now, so he didn’t think they’d just let her go over it.

He hoped.

“Okay, so Friday. I have to pay this shit by Friday, Mom.”

“I know. I’ll get an advance. Should be about $200 more...fuck. Ash, I’m so sorry, I’ll go see the landlord–”

“No.” They weren’t going to get any more time, they were already on threat of eviction for all of their late payments. “No, it’s okay, I’ll get the money.”

“How?” She finally looked at him now, eyes tired and desperate. “How?”

“I’ve got a friend.”

“Oh, Ash–”

“It’s alright Mom. I’ll handle it.”

He penned down the number $484, scribbling around the margins and outlining it again and again, a hot flush of nausea threatening to overtake him. There was only one way he was going to make that money in two days.

Dino.

Despite the number of times Max had offered to just go and pick Ash up, most days, he still insisted on walking his way down to the shop. Max didn’t press him on it–Ash was the sort who seemed to thrive on an exact schedule, so this was probably part of it. Now that it was summer, he showed up by noon every day like clockwork–never more than fifteen minutes off. He’d help out for a while, or just crash on the couch. And then, like some unspoken agreement between the two of them, Max would drive him home again around 7.

Lately, they’d added a bit more to that repertoire.

Kissing Ash was exciting in a way that Max hadn’t felt in ages. He tried not to think about the inner complexities of the thing (like that Ash’s mother hated his guts, or that Ash was barely legal, or that Max was _dying of cancer_ ,) and instead just relished the way his stomach tightened a little bit every time Ash smiled, or the way Ash would curl a hand around the back of Max’s neck and pull him close.

It had seemed so sudden, but even though only a few weeks had passed since that first kiss in the quiet calm of the office, it felt more real than anything Max had ever had.

_It’s just a passing phase_ , he tried to tell himself. _He’ll move on quick, and no harm will come of it._ He tried desperately to ignore the rational side of his brain, the part screaming at him that Ash would get hurt and Max would be responsible. Again.

The buzzer in the garage went off signalling that someone was at the front office, and Max scooted out quick from underneath the old Honda he’d been working on. “Coming,” he yelled, loud enough that it ought to be heard.

He wiped his hands on the towel by the door, then looked up at the clock. It was 12:36 and Ash still hadn’t come by. Unusual, but not the end of the world.

His old highschool football coach was standing at the counter, looking around the office with a pinched frown.

“Hey, Mr. Jacoby,” Max said, coming around the corner. “Car trouble?”

“Eh.”

Max just stood his ground, waiting. The guy had come in a few times over the year for oil changes–nothing more. Mostly he used it as time to berate Max for not taking him up on the offer he’d made four years back to be the assistant coach at the school.

“Think I’m coming up on oil needing to be changed.”

Nodding, Max grabbed the small receipt pad he had stashed in the corner of the counter. “Same as always, then?”

“You’re wasting your talent.”

And here it was. Same spiel he’d heard a dozen times. “I appreciate the offer, sir, I really do. But I’m pretty happy out here.”

“You’re a kid, living alone, working on cars and wasting your life away.”

Shrugging, Max ripped the receipt off the pad and handed it over. “You parked in front?”

Mr. Jacoby handed over the keys. “Yep. Wife’ll take me home”

“Sounds good.” Max walked the man out the door just as Ash was sauntering in, hands deep in his pockets, headphone on blasting bass lines so loud it almost vibrated the ground. “Hey,” Max said, but Ash just shouldered past him, not looking up.

“That…” Jacoby paused for a second, ignoring Max as he tried to tug him forward. “Callenreese, right? That kid’s a good for nothing–”

“Right,” Max said, still tugging at the man. “That your wife’s car over there?” he asked, trying to get Jacoby back on track.

“He the one whose brother overdosed?”

Max smiled through his teeth. “I’ll be done by four. You can come by anytime after that till about 6.”

“He’s trouble,” Jacoby muttered, then he finally headed over to where his wife was idling. “You think about it, Max,” he called before slamming the door closed. The car slowly made its way out of the parking lot, gravel rumbling beneath the tires, and Max was left wondering if he was supposed to think about Ash, or supposed to think about coaching football, or supposed to think about something else entirely. Rolling his eyes, he trudged back inside, the little bells that were hung on the door handle tinkling behind him.

Ash was collapsed on the couch, both eyes closed.

“Hey,” Max called, grabbing at the receipt pad again and tearing another page. He balled it up and threw it at Ash, watching as it bounced off his nose.

“Fuck off,” Ash groaned, rolling over.

Max ignored him–just tore off another sheet, balled it up and threw it. Did it again. And again.

“ _Max!_ ” Ash whined, throwing an arm up over his eyes.

“Don’t come wandering into my shop if you don’t want attention there, kiddo.” Max smiled big, and then launched himself across the office and landed on top of Ash, pinning him down against the couch and kissing him deeply.

Ash jerked back like he’d been hit, eyes blinking slowly enough that Max could tell he was massively high on something again.

“Sorry.” Max apologized, pushing himself back up.

“Fuck,” Ash groaned again. “I didn’t mean that.”

They hadn’t gone any further than kissing, and as much as Max wanted to push those boundaries, he could confidently say that he’d be happy even if kissing was the only thing they ever did. But right now, Ash was looking just past him, eyes tight and narrow and body held tense. Max reached out cautiously, placing his hand on Ash’s knee. “You alright?”

“Not a wounded animal. You don’t have to treat me like it,”

His words were slurring just a little, but he didn’t push Max away this time.

“Okay,” Max said carefully. “Sorry.”

Ash leaned forward with a funny look on his face, then kissed Max before sinking back down again and wiping his hand against the back of his mouth. “You see Griff when you kiss me?”

Max blinked in surprise. “Uh..”

“I mean when you look at me. Do you see Griff?”

“I don’t–” Max cut off, swallowing hard. “Are you asking me if I’m kissing you because you’re my substitute for your brother?”

“I guess.”

Suddenly Ash wasn’t even meeting Max’s eyes, was just trying to look past him. Max reached down and gently turned his chin back, but Ash just smacked his hand away.

“It’s fine, if that’s what this is. I don’t care.” He started trying to bring a finger up to his mouth to chew on, but Max gently tapped that too, causing Ash to growl quietly in protest.

“I think you do care,” Max started. “And I don’t–”

“I don’t care. I really don’t. I just wanted to know. I don’t know, whatever–”

“Ash.” He said this more firmly, watched as Ash finally met his eyes again. Ash would get this way every now and again, just talking, talking, talking as his anxiety continued to spiral. Max was getting better at handling it, but this somehow felt different. He backed up, pushing Ash’s legs around far enough that he had a space to just sit on the couch where he wasn’t hovering over Ash. “I want to kiss you. Not your brother.”

“It’s weird though, isn’t it? You were always hanging with him, and now–”

“You aren’t your brother, okay? He was my best friend. You are my…” now he trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable without a name to put to whatever they actually were.

Ash sat up and brought his thumbnail back to his mouth. Max tried to hit it away again, but Ash just jerked back and scowled at him. “Cut it out,” he murmured, chewing at the nail bed.

“You cut it out!”

Ash stayed quiet, finger still in his mouth. He’d painted his nails black at some point, and it was chipped back almost all the way to his cuticles.

“Okay, fine. Chew your fingers off for all I care. I want to kiss you, not Griff.”

Ash stared at him for a second, then his eyes flickered back down again and he threw himself back down the couch. “Fine. Cool. Whatever. I need to sleep.”

“Oh…”

“I got too fucked up. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Max studied him for a second, then eased on the other side of the couch, careful not to touch Ash again, but facing him so that he could see every breath Ash took. “Can I stay here?”

“Fine.”

Max watched Ash close his eyes. They lay there in quiet for a few minutes as the muted sound of guitar riffs trickled in through the garage door from the radio. Then Ash’s eyes flickered open again.

“You’re staring at me.”

Shrugging, Max tried to grin. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

Ash rolled over onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Bad day,” he said, muffled against his arms.

“Do you...you can tell me? If you need to?”

“Fuck.” Ash gave a tiny, broken sounding laugh. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Sorry I got fucked up. I just need to sleep it off, okay?”

“Okay.” Max watched him for just a couple more seconds, then carefully stood up. He knew that if he pushed too hard at anything, Ash would just run again so it seemed the safer option to just leave him be, even though there was a sickening twist of worry in his gut. “I gotta do Mr. Jacoby’s oil change. I’ll be in the garage?”

Ash grunted in response, and there wasn’t anything else for Max to do but head back out to work.

Ash didn’t join him the rest of the afternoon. It had happened before–usually if he was too high, he’d just spend the entire day sleeping. This was different though. There was something about the vulnerability in his eyes when he’d asked Max about Griff coupled with the fact that he was more drugged out then Max had ever seen him that made that flicker of worry curl tighter and tighter in Max’s gut.

It was right around 3:30 that Max finished Mr. Jacoby’s car, and right about 3:45 that Mr. Jacoby pulled into the lot. Max met him right outside the garage so that he could spare them both the long-winded explanation he’d have to come up with to explain away Ash’s presence on the couch. As soon as he handed the keys back over and got Mr. Jacoby off his lot, he headed back in through the garage, washed his hands in the sink by the door, and then stepped through the door to the hallway.

“...I get that, but I don’t want to–”

Silence. “I know. I know I need the money. I just…fine. I said fine, Arthur.”

Ash sounded frustrated and completely defeated with whoever was on the other end of the line, and Max had the sneaking suspicion that he was absolutely not supposed to be hearing any of this. He squeezed his eyes closed tight, warring between making a noise so that Ash would know he was coming down the hallway, or staying put and listening in more.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Ash repeated, sounding more and more like he was about to snap. “Just text me. Yeah, obviously tonight. I know.”

Then there was silence that lasted long enough for Max to take in a breath and–

“I know you’re in here.”

Ash was definitely referring to Max now, calling down the length of the hallway.

“Uhh, yeah, just finished out there–” he unzipped his jumpsuit, pulling his arms out of it as he walked down the hall and came out in sight of Ash. “You okay?”

Ash’s hair was all matted to one side of his face, and he still had pillow marks indented into his cheek. He looked like he’d been sleeping there 3 years instead of 3 hours, and it was so cute Max just had to walk up and kiss him.

Except Ash flinched the smallest amount as their lips met, just like he had earlier.

“Ash?” Max asked, drawing back. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Ash pulled away from Max and headed towards the kitchen. “Just need water. Then you can take me home?”

“Already?” The sink popped on and Ash filled his glass, then swallowed it all down before turning back to Max and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know I’m acting like an ass today, I’ve just had something come up–”

“It’s alright.” Max shrugged further out of the jumpsuit letting it drop to the floor and stepping out. “I just need a shower really quick, cool?” He’d sweat through both his undershirt and mesh athletic shorts that he’d been wearing underneath and was uncomfortable enough that he didn’t really want to be driving home while stinking this much.

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated, still studying Ash. There was something so off, and he just couldn’t figure it out. Ash had sobered up enough to sound almost normal again, but something about the way Ash was holding himself was wrong. He was just tense enough that he might run at any moment and he looked more like the Ash who’d accidentally shown up a month back than the Ash who’d begun to open up. The Ash who was kind, and who smiled, and was _happy_.

“You going?” Ash asked, turning to fill the glass again.

“Yeah,” Max said, and headed to the shower.

Despite his suspicion that something was wrong, the ride home proved as uneventful as it usually was. Ash tried to get into an argument about The Clash being better than The Ramones, and Max argued just as hard in favor of the other way. The day was muggy and humid, but there was just enough wind that with the windows down, they could pretend they weren’t about to melt.

“You ever think about leaving here?” Ash asked, clearly ready to end the seemingly unending punk rock battle of 2020. Max spared a look at him real quick. Ash was staring out the window, not looking at Max, but he had a sort dreamy expression on his face like he was watching some other place roll by as they drove. “Yeah,” Max said, turning back to the road. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why haven’t you?”

That actual answer to that question didn’t seem the sort that was great to begin on a ten minute drive back to the trailer park, but Max knew he had to say something. “It’s hard to get out, right? I mean...I’m happy here. I have my shop. My cars. I don’t need much else.”

“You have me,” Ash pointed out, terse, but also heavily sarcastic.

“Okay,” Max laughed. “I have you also. Why, you ever think of leaving?”

“Fucking obviously.” Then he looked back out the window.

A minute passed, then two, the silence lying heavy between them. A cattle truck passed them on the other side of the highway, and the stench of fear and manure got so thick for a second Max thought he might suffocate. Then it was gone, rumbling down the road, and Ash still hadn’t moved.

“I want to drive somewhere,” Max said, desperate to break the stifling air.

Ash turned his head just enough that Max could see him watching. “Where?”

“I guess…” Shrugging, Max started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess I just really want to see the ocean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The Pacific. Just once, you know? Doesn’t need to be anything crazy. I just want to drive on out of town and keep going, not look back, just drive and drive till I’m there. It’s crazy, I know it’s this idealized notion of...whatever...but I just want to smell the air there. Watch the waves roll in. It’s so enormous, right? Like…to stand there and realize the scope of the world...I don’t know.” “Yeah,” Ash said again, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

“What about you?”

“New York.” The answer came so quick it was obvious that Ash had already been thinking about it.

“Like the city? I think that would be...loud.”

“Yeah…” That dreamlike expression was back, and there was the ghost of a smile on Ash’s lips. “I just want to go somewhere that it’s possible to be forgotten.”

Max frowned. “That sounds really depressing?”

“Speaks you, whose only dream is to drive 2000 miles by themselves.”

He had a point.

“I just...” Ash continued, “here I’m one person, you know? Like, I’m trailer trash, I’m poor, I barely passed highschool, and I spend my waking hours getting high and doing jack shit. Everyone knows that, there isn’t another...me.”

“I don’t think that’s true–”

“Naa. It is. But in New York City? I could get lost. I could be anyone I wanted to be. No one knows my story, no one knows my past…” he shrugged, then kicked a foot up on the dash. “Just seems like a good place to start over.”

The rubber of the sole had peeled away from the backing of the heel of his shoe, and Max could see the smallest sliver of Ash’s sock underneath. He was suddenly uncomfortable, like he’d given a piece of himself away that no one else had ever been privy to, and that Ash had done the same, and now they were tied together in a knot that was getting increasingly hard to seperate and once Ash found out the truth…

“Max! Here!”

Max snapped back to attention and braked hard, almost missing the entrance to the trailer park. “Shit, sorry–”

“You zoned out, you’re worse than me!”

“Nothing is worse than you.”

“You are.”

Max almost smacked him across the head, but he sounded so more like himself than compared to a few hours ago that Max’s relief overshadowed everything else.

Until they pulled into Ash’s driveway and saw Ash’s mom standing there in a purple bathrobe as she smoked a cigarette. She looked up and saw Max, and suddenly Max was frozen under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks? Max?” Ash was already halfway out of the car, but he leaned back in, looking at Max with concern.

“Ah…”

“Hey, you wanna come in for a bit? Mom!” he turned, calling out to Mrs. Callenreese. “Look who's here!”

_Look who’s here_. Internally, Max flinched. Ash made it sound like Max stopped by every Sunday afternoon for tea, rather than the truth: Max hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Callenreese in over four years, and the last time he’d set foot in their trailer was when Griffin died.

“I can see,” she said drily, continuing to smoke and glare at Max.

“Ah, I should get back,” Max stammered out.

“Alright,” Ash shrugged. “Whatever.” Then he crawled over the seat and kissed Max, just long enough so that the little ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against Max’s lips.

Max kissed back, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mrs. Callenreese as her frown grew deeper and deeper.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**
> 
> This chapter contains dub-con/non-con scenes between Ash and Dino.

_You there?_

Ash looked down at his phone in disgust, debating between actually answering Arthur’s inane text or just ignoring it. Of course he was fucking there, it was 10 PM on the dot, he was underneath the overhang of the 7-11 leaning against the scratchy rock side, and was smoking a cigarette trying to look like he actually belonged there instead of just loitering around waiting to be picked up by Dino fucking Golzine. The air was so densely humid, he knew it was going to downpour any moment, and wouldn’t that be just his fucking luck…

He looked up as a Lexus pulled into the gas pump, idling for just a moment before the owner killed the engine.

“Fuck,” Ash muttered, then he dropped his cigarette and squashed it underneath the toe of his shoe. He allowed himself one last glance at his phone, not entirely sure what he was hoping to see. His mom texting him that she won million dollars would be nice. Or just...Max...

Ash shook his head and bit his lip. He didn’t want Max anywhere near this situation, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think about him while he was being pimped out by Arthur like a goddamn whore.

The Lexus just stayed put, doors closed, tinted windows so dark you couldn’t see a thing inside. Ash walked over, trying to look as nonchalant as possible just in case there was someone watching the security cam. He’d thrown on his old black hoody because he had the ridiculous thought that he might be cold, but now he was just sweating his ass off from the damn heat and nerves and was wishing more than anything that he’d left it at home, he was wishing he’d left himself at home, he was wishing he had some other way to make that money back than this–

The doors unlocked with a snick of sound just as Ash touched the handle, and before he could talk himself back out of it, he opened the passenger one and sank down into the leather seat, closing it quickly behind him.

The car reeked of cigar smoke and the wintergreen sachets that Dino kept stuffed underneath the seats. Just one breath in, Ash was already fighting back nausea and an impending panic attack.

“You look tense, my feisty little tomcat,” Dino crooned, reaching over and running a finger gently down Ash’s cheek to his jaw. “Having second thoughts?”

He was, but he didn’t want to say it. Despite how nauseous that little pet name made him, giving Dino any power over his emotions never ended well. “I’m fine,” he said shortly, eyes still on the red lights of the 7-11 sign.

“I hope you’re planning on being a lot sweeter than that. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to see you,” Dino murmured. His pupils were already blown from whatever drug concoction he was on, and his finger stroked back up Ash’s cheek, brushing right underneath his eye. “You cried so pretty last time, baby…”

He let that trail off, and Ash swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. He wished he were still high, but he’d taken the last of his percocet stash two days ago, and the brief high from the aerosol paint he’d huffed in his room prior to this meeting had long since worn off. “I will,” he managed quietly, his fingers curling against his palms.

“I’m glad,” Dino said. “Do you want something, sweetheart?”

Ash wanted to get out of the car, but he knew what Dino was offering, so he nodded tightly.

“You only have to ask…”

“Please, Papa,” Ash said, the words tumbling from his mouth.

Dino smiled, then reached across Ash and tapped at the glove box open, revealing the contents that were lit up with the bright blue light. He pulled out a little bag of white powder, then carefully tapped some out at the crease between his pointer finger and thumb. “Anything for you, baby,” he crooned, holding his hand just far enough away that Ash had to lean into him.

Ash did. He’d do anything for drugs right now. He snorted the coke eagerly, desperate for any sort of high, and then he licked up the remains off of Dino’s fingers, just the way Dino liked.

Smiling, Dino finally pulled his hand back and ruffled his fingers through Ash’s hair. “Good boy,” he said, then he pushed the ignition and slowly pulled out of the lot.

They spent most of the short drive in silence. Dino had put his hand against Ash’s thigh early on and was busy rubbing slowly up and down Ash’s leg, getting closer and closer to his groin. Everything was a game to Dino, a game that Ash had no chance of winning. Even with the cloying stench of the car, the overbearing presence of the man next to him, and the heady, anxious rush of the cocaine, Ash felt his body responding to Dino’s movements, and he was half hard within minutes. He tried to sink back into the seat and let the lights of the town pass by, but Dino grew more and more insistent, rubbing at his shorts until Ash gasped and tapped at his wrist.

“Too much, sweetheart?”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Ash nodded.

Dino stopped after that, but his fingers lingered against the hem of Ash’s shorts, pads brushing slow circles against his thigh.

Ash kept his eyes tightly closed as they passed Max’s shop, and before he knew it, they were pulling into the lot at the strip club, the flashing lights of Outlaws blindingly blue and pink.

Ash had yet to figure Dino’s story out. He knew that Dino had invested heavily in the oil industry, that he lived just East in Grand Forks, and that he’d lost a fortune in Devil’s Lake. He knew that Dino liked fine wine and fine cigars and didn’t have enough money for either. He knew that Dino liked to see him cry...

Ash blinked and ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide the fact that his hands were starting to shake.

Outlaws was a strip club mostly frequented by cross-country truckers, and as such, had a seedy motel attached to the back of the building. There were only six rooms, and the sign out front advertised hourly rates, which is exactly why Dino brought Ash here every time they met.

“Come on, baby,” Dino ordered, killing the engine and opening the driver side door.. He swung his legs out and pushed himself up from the car, leaning back in only to glare at Ash.

Ash followed suit.

The cocaine was already hitting hard, and he was having trouble sitting still. Everything was moving too fast, or maybe it was too slow–either way he found himself blinking hard, trying to focus again.

“Good drugs?” Dino purred, and Ash jumped, not realizing that the older man had made his way around the car and was standing right there. “Let’s go get our room.”

Dino’s hand snaked around Ash’s waist, pulling him tight. His sports coat was itchy and woolen, and Ash had no fucking clue why he was wearing it in the eighty degree humid heat of the night, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into Dino’s touch, brushing his nose against the curve of Dino’s neck and smiling.

If there was one thing Dino was good for, it was grade A quality drugs.

Inside the strip club there was a tiny booth, all painted black, lit up only by the neon pink flickering footlights, and the golden glow from behind the plexiglass window.

“Room for…” Dino turned his head, scratching at that place behind Ash’s ears that always felt so good, and Ash found himself leaning in even more. “The night,” he settled on.

_Wrong_ , Ash’s brain shouted. He’d told Arthur this was only for a couple of hours, he’d told Arthur that he didn’t want to stay the night, he’d had rules, and Arthur promised not to break them! Ash swallowed hard and tried to pull away, only to be yanked back into place. He tried to smile again, but this time it was more forced. “I only got four hours, Papa–”

Dino’s fingers snaked in his hair and pulled just tight enough for Ash to wince, not tight enough for the attendant to notice anything, and Ash stopped talking.

“The night,” he repeated, and then slid a credit card through the little slot.

“You wanna pay extra for a show?” The attendant asked, sounding bored as hell. Ash tried to focus in on him, but everything seemed just blurry enough to not be real.

“Just the room.”

In no time at all, the attendant passed back a key attached to a large rubber rectangle with the number 103 printed neatly. You’re room 103,” he said.

“No fucking kidding,” Ash mumbled. Dino looked down at him, but then just shook his head, a smile curving up.

“Feisty,” he murmured, wrapping thick fingers around the key.

He didn’t thank the attendant, just pulled Ash back through the door and out to the sidewalk that wrapped around the building. Ash scanned the parking lot, looking for anyone else hanging outside, but didn’t see anyone else–just a dozen empty cars.

_“You know what he’s going to ask,” Frederick had said._

_“No.”_

_“You said you needed money…”_

_“I get that but I don’t want to–”_

_“It’s an extra $200 a piece, Ash. Twice what you made last time.”_

_“No.”_

There was no one hanging out there now, and Ash had been perfectly clear on that _no_ , but he’d also been perfectly clear that he wasn’t staying the night with Dino and apparently that hadn’t mattered one bit. Ash looked back at the empty parking lot one last time, and knew with a sinking feeling in his gut that there would be someone else there soon enough.

Room 103 of Outlaws was just as dark and dismal as the other rooms he’d been in here. There was no overhead light–just the floor lamps that gave off a sickly yellow hue, and the carpets were brown and grey so faded by use that you could almost see the floorboards straight through them. The beds were covered with drab shams that had a distinctly ‘western themed’ green and brown pattern on them. Dino patted at one of these now, and Ash obediently sat in place, trying not to let his knee jiggle up and down and trying not to gnaw on his lower lip.

“Beautiful,” Dino said, repeating that word again as he looked Ash up and down just like a predatory cat.

He hated that word so much. Ash tried to lick his lips and smile–tried to look like he wanted to be here. He glanced up and Dino had already taken off his suit coat and unbuttoned his shirt. “Do you want more?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

_More drugs_ , is what he meant, and Ash found himself nodding, even though the room was already spinning.

“You know what you need to do.”

Ash got on his knees, moving his hands to the front of Dino’s pants, and rubbing his nose against his thigh. “Please, Papa,” he murmured, hands moving higher, higher, unzipping…

The panic from earlier was still there, and being hopped up on coke it was getting increasingly hard to ignore. Sometimes Dino brought pills too–would stuff him so full of muscle relaxants that he couldn’t feel a thing. Ash didn’t know if that was better, but right now he was toeing the line between barely functional and a full blown, up-against-the-wall panic attack, so he was starting to hope Dino had something else. “Please,” he murmured again.

Dino laughed above him, the bulge against his tweed pants growing bigger and bigger with every second. “You ask so nicely, my little tomcat.” Then he nodded, leaned back against the grimy old tv stand, and let Ash get to work.

It didn’t take too much of Dino fisting his hands in Ash’s hair and thrusting down his throat before he came, and Ash swallowed easily, sucking him clean before pulling back. He remembered at the last second not to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand but to instead just try to lick it all away, just the way Dino liked. “Please,” he asked again, voice already hoarse, and starting to shake.

Dino leaned back, his cock just barely starting to soften against his thigh. “Coat,” he groaned, head still thrown back.

His shirt was still on, but unbuttoned like it was, Ash could see the dark wiry hair that went from his chest all the way down to his groin, covering his gut. His skin was waxy white, and sallow, like a man going old before his prime.

Ash didn’t actually know how old Dino was. He’d tried once to dig for more information about the man, but had come up mostly empty handed. Dino moved finally, sighing loudly and then walking over to the bed where he stripped the covers away to reveal the bleached white sheets. “Bring me some too,” he growled, then lay down on the bed with his back propped against the headboard, eyeing Ash the entire time.

Ash reached for the pants, pushing his hands in the pockets of Dino’s jacket, and finally finding a pill container instead of more cocaine. _Thank fuck_ , he thought, unscrewing the cap and dumping four into his hand. He replaced the bottle, then crawled on his knees back over to Dino where he carefully held out his hand. Dino leaned over and licked up the pills, and Ash crawled up on the bed, straddling him and bending forward.

They kissed just long enough for Dino’s tongue to push two pills into Ash’s mouth, and Ash had never swallowed something so quickly in his life. Dino’s hands were all over his body now, rucking his shirt up, pulling it off, pushing him to the side to get rid of his pants, and Ash just grinned, waiting for the mellow of the ketamine to take the buzz off the coke.

Letting Dino fuck him was easy enough. He liked Ash on his hands and knees, and not having to look him in the eyes made everything so much easier. He turned his head, the comforter rubbing against his jaw as Dino pumped into him, and he made sure to give an obligatory moan of ‘pleasure’ every few moments. Eventually, this finished also, and then Ash snuggled into Dino’s arms, opened his mouth for more pills, smoked a cigarette and waited while Dino flicked through the channels on the old tv.

He had just settled on some ridiculous nature documentary when his phone started to buzz . Dino picked up, “103,” he said tersely, then hung it up again.

Ash was floating, Ash was heavy, Ash was nothing.

On the screen he watched a crocodile thrust out of the murky water and snap it’s jaws around the baby zebra standing there. The door to the room swung open and three other men walked in.

Ash recognized the first–a business partner of Dino’s named Marvin. He didn’t know the other two. One had greying hair, and a sharp profile that matched the cutting lines of his navy blue suit. The other was shorter, balding and pot-bellied. His eyes were tiny, and his nose was too big, and he watched Ash like the crocodile in the show. Dino finally stood up, leaving Ash curled against the head of the bed, and went to the bathroom. Ash could hear the water cut on, and he could see the other men grinning down at him, and he just couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck.

At some point, he tried to mumble that he needed to leave, that he couldn’t stay the night, that it was only supposed to be for four hours.

They didn’t care.

Someone forced more pills down his throat, someone else gave him another bump of cocaine. All four of them fucked him. He got punched once when he forgot to say Papa, he got kicked when he was too shaky to hold himself up any longer.

At some point, he blinked and the room was quiet. The other men were gone, Dino was standing over him and Ash was laying against the floor, his cheek pressed into the wiry carpet fibers.

“Get up, whore,” Dino said, nudging at him with the toe of his shoe.

Dino always started the night friendly enough, but got nasty when everything was said and done. Ash managed to look up just enough to see that the other man was fully dressed again, washed up, and ready to leave. He tried to push himself back up on his knees, but fell back over, a whimper of pain escaping his lips.

“You’re a mess.” Dino turned away from him and grabbed his coat and wallet. “But a good fuck, as always. Room’s only paid for till 8 AM. Get out before then.”

He left, the door slamming closed behind him, and Ash managed to push himself high enough to see the red numbers on the alarm clock. 6:54 AM. His face hurt. His body hurt. His head was still swimming nauseatingly from the combination of drugs he’d taken.

Ash let himself breathe for a couple of minutes, then forced himself up. On the tv stand, there was a stack of bills, and Ash sighed out in relief, counting the 20s until they added all the way up to $900. “Oh fuck,” he gasped, gripping the wad of cash tight, then bending over to pick up his clothes. He carefully walked into the bathroom, then winced when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His left eye was swollen most of the way shut from Marvin’s fist and Ash prodded at it, the skin puffy and hot under his fingers. It was already turning dark purple, and Marvin’s ring had caught against his cheekbone, leaving a bleeding gash that already scabbed over. Otherwise, he didn’t look too bad, all things considered.

Dino’s crowd liked to play rough, and he’d definitely come out a hell of a lot worse in the past.

He shoved the cash in the pocket of his shorts, then took a piss, trying to fuzz his vision just enough that he didn’t have to look at his body at all.

Then he turned on the shower as hot as it would go, stepped under the blast of water and scrubbed himself raw.

The water started to run cold before he finished, but he didn’t care.

He snake down against the side of the shower, hugged himself tight, and started to cry.


	9. Chapter 9

The knocking at the front office door brought Max out of a deep sleep and he blinked awake slowly, limbs still paralyzingly heavy with the heavy duty percocet he’d had to take a few hours prior. His phone was somewhere close to him, and he dug around in the sheets for it, finally pulling it free and noting the time.

8:26 AM.

Groaning, he tried to roll out of bed but his legs were still shaky with pain and he ended up just hunched over the side of it, wheezing and trying to catch his breath.

The knocking wouldn’t stop.

“Closed,” he tried to say, but it came out just a mumble of pain.

It stopped for just a moment, then he heard the sound of a key in the door handle.

Max pushed himself up, but only succeeded in knocking the glass of water off of the table next to the pull out and shattering glass everywhere.“God fucking damnit,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to ride out the rush of nausea that came with trying to wake up while still high on percocet. He heard the jingle of the bells, heard the door close again, and was trying his hardest to just stand up straight... Then Ash stepped around the corner.

“Ash,,,?” Max asked as Ash stumbled forward, arms wrapped around his chest, left eye completely swollen shut, and a gash across his face that was still sluggishly bleeding. “Ash, what the fuck–”

“Forgot there was a key there,” Ash mumbled, not looking him in the eye.

“Holy shit. What happened? Are you–”

“Need the bathroom,” he grit out, and then he shoved past Max and stumbled down the hall where he threw the bathroom door closed. Within seconds Max could hear the sound of him puking in the toilet.

“What the fuck,” Max murmured, too quiet for anyone to hear. He knew he should get up and force past the pain and drugs to make coffee. He knew that he needed to look ‘normal’ because Ash wasn’t stupid. But even as he thought it, his body slid back down onto the pullout as he gasped in pain. Max managed to push himself up enough that he was sitting against the back of the couch, but every movement of his legs brought that sharp, agonizing pain back, so he just let them lay straight, and tried to give the impression that this was normal–that this was his normal 8:26 AM positioning.

He heard the toilet flush, and then the sink, and finally Ash came out again, carefully leaning against the wall. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Drugs suck.”

Besides the fact that his left eye was so black and purple that it made Max’s stomach churn, Ash looked completely exhausted, and completely strung out. He kept swallowing, like he was trying to get rid of the taste of his own mouth, and the way he was breathing was too quick and harsh to be normal. Max’s eyes wandered down to Ash’s hands, and watched the way they were shaking.

Ash noticed his line of vision and quickly shoved them back into the pocket of his black hoodie.

“What happened?” Max asked quietly.

There was that heavy swallow again, then Ash finally looked up at him. “Sorry, “ he said again. “Bad high.”

“You got…” Max bit his lip, running scenarios through his head. “You got high...and then walked here from the trailers...and got mugged on the way?”

“Something like that.”

“Come on, Ash. Tell me the truth.”

He shrugged, looked back down at his shoes, and suddenly looked so frail and young that Max would do absolutely anything to fix this.

“Ash,” he pleaded. “Come on. Something was up yesterday, you weren’t acting like yourself, and now you show up here four hours earlier than usual, beat to hell and back and looking like you’re scared of your own shadow. Please tell me what’s going on?”

“Why is there glass all over the floor?”

Max blinked, then tried to give his easy smile. Unfortunately, through the haze of painkillers, it probably looked terrifying. “Uh...broke a glass.”

“So why are you just sitting there.”

Every question he asked was with absolutely no inflection. Max winced, then tried to shift up a little more on the couch without looking like he had no range of motion at all. “Threw out my back,” he tried. Max was always a terrible liar, on account of his cheeks flushing bright red at any false statement he put out. He could already feel the color rushing to his face, and Ash was studying him intensely, mouth pursed in a hard line.

Then Ash shrugged–a tiny, defeated motion– before dropping his gaze back to his shoes. “Sorry,” he said, for the third time that morning. “Ash–”

“I needed money, okay? I’ve got…” he raised his arm and carded a hand through his hair. He was still shaking, but it was starting to lessen and his breathing sounded more normal. “Fuck,” he swore. “There’s a kid in my class who’s got connections. For the last three years or so...I don’t know. He sets me up. It’s easy money, most of the time I barely do anything at all, just sometimes it gets a little rough. I needed money, fast this time ergo…”

He trailed off. Max was still working his way through those words, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. His brain was moving at the speed of fucking molasses and he couldn’t seem to make sense of any of Ash’s words. “I don’t...what are you doing?”

Ash looked up at him, sharp and serpent like, then threw his head back, knocking against the wall. “God damn it Max, come on. I’m trying to tell you that I’m a whore. Okay? I fuck people for money. And drugs. Or drugs and money. Doesn’t really matter, most days I’m desperate enough to do anything they ask.”

That was not exactly what Max was expecting him to say, but again, his brain didn’t seem to be able to quite process all of the information correctly. “You...you…”

Ash was glaring at him, and then all the sudden his eyebrows rose. “You’re fucking high.”

“No, I–”

“No. I know a high when I see it. What are you on?”

Max groaned, and sank down further into the couch. “My back,” he finally lied. “I’ve got a prescription for heavy duty pain pills. Sometimes I need to take them.”

Ash crossed his arms in front of his chest again, studying Max with all the intensity of the sun. Then finally he shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.”

Both stopped talking, and for a long while, the only sound in the room at all was the old AC box sitting in the window as it clicked on and started buzzing.

“I can pay you,” Max finally said. “To work here I mean. Not…”

Ash just glared harder. “I’m not that desperate. Fuck off.”

“Ash, you just told me that you’re selling yourself–”

“That’s __my__ choice!” he burst out, smacking his head back against the wall again. “It’s __my__ fucking choice!” he repeated. Every breath sounded labored again, and he kept swallowing over and over, like he was about to be sick again. “I call the shots, I don’t have to do anything, I’m the one who says yes, I’m the one who says it’s okay–” he threw his hands up, scratching furiously at his temples.

“Ash–”

“It’s okay! I __say__ it’s okay. I say…” he cut off with a whimper, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Ash, can you just…” Max shifted, trying to throw his legs over the side of the bed to stand again. “Can you just come here?”

Ash shook his head, hand still pressed against his mouth, eyes wide and frightened.

“Hey. Just...fuck.” Max wanted to scream with how fucked up this entire thing was. Ash was hurt, and Max could barely think straight, let alone move off the bed to help. “Ash, please. Just come here? Just sit down. Breathe, okay? Breathe.”

“I gotta go,” he murmured, finally dropping his hand.

“No. Please don’t go?” Max took a deep breath and tried to think past the heavy apathy of the percocet. “Just come sit, alright?”

“You don’t want me here. I’m trash. I’m–”

“Ash.”

Ash stopped, swallowing hard again. He took a deep breath and held it, then let it go slow. Then did it again. “Fuck,” he murmured. “Fuck, I’m sorry–”

“I don’t want you to go. I want you to come sit next to me. Please.”

The AC kicked back off, the room was almost totally silent, then Ash took a step forward. He looked down the hallway towards the door, then he looked at Max, then he looked towards the kitchenette where the coffee pot was sitting face down on a towel from last night when Max had washed it. “Can I make coffee?” he asked, in a voice so small it almost disappeared.

“Oh god, please make coffee,” Max groaned.

“Okay,” Ash nodded. “Coffee first.” He was still holding himself so tense he looked like he might snap in half but he walked over to the sink, and opened the cupboard, pulling down the grounds and prepping the coffee pot. Max finally let his eyes close, and tried to breathe through the aching, throbbing pain of his insides.

“I’m really fucked up,” Ash murmured.

Max barely heard him over the sound of the running water as he filled the pot. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, grit his teeth at the pain of a single movement, and then nodded. “I’m really fucked up too.”

Ash didn’t say anything in response, and Max must have drifted off because the next time he opened his eyes, Ash was standing there with two cups of coffee and a nervous look on his face.

“Shit,” Max murmured, reaching out and taking a cup. His back wasn’t protesting as much anymore, and he figured if he could just make it into the shower and sit there under the hot water for as long as possible, he’d probably be moving like normal again. There wasn’t a great way to do that gracefully with Ash watching though, so he just sipped at his cup. “You gonna sit?”

“Oh.” Ash’s eyes flickered to the other side of the pullout, then to the desk. Max had moved the chair out to the garage a long while back so Ash had a place to sit other than the cement stairs when he was feeling particularly broody or unhelpful, so there was no other place to sit. “Uh…”

“You can sit next to me?”

Ash swallowed hard, then sipped at his coffee. “You...you don’t have to…”

“Ash. Come on. Sit down.”

He finally obeyed, walking around the end of the pullout and sitting down as stiff as a board, facing away from Max.

“Okay, kiddo, you can either decide that you never want to speak to me again now that I know your deepest, darkest secret, or you can actually relax, sit down, look at me, and have a conversation. I’m not mad at you, I’m not judging you, I want to kick the shit out of whoever did that to your face, but otherwise, I’m feeling perfectly reasonable.”

“Maybe that wasn’t my deepest, darkest secret,” Ash mumbled, but he finally kicked off his shoes and scootched back on the bed, turning to face Max before pulling his knees up to his chest. He sipped at his coffee again, and his blond hair fell, hiding the awful gash and black eye for just a second before he moved again. “Maybe I have worse.”

“Alright.” Max leaned over and set his coffee down, then crossed his arms and stared down Ash. “Lay it on me. You murder someone?”

Ash’s nose wrinkled, then he sighed, loud and heavy. “No.”

“What did you need money for?”

Ash scowled, then looked back down his knees. “Fucking rent. What else.”

“Okay. So you did what you had to to keep a roof over your and your mom’s head. That it?”

“It’s called prostitution,” Ash mumbled.

“Fine. Whatever you want to call it, Did you get what you needed?”

Silence.

“Ash. Did you get the money you needed?”

He gave the smallest nod.

“Okay. Then pay the rent. And on Monday, you start working for me.”

Ash buried his head in his knees and now it was almost impossible to make out his muttering.“You don’t have to do that.”

“Look, you’re already here everyday helping out. Just so happens that I’ve been in need of a cute, perky little secretary–”

“Fuck off.”

“Alright, fine, a grumpy, angsty shitshow who’ll frighten all my customers away so that I can spend the day kissing him, instead of doing cheap oil changes.”

Ash heaved a shuddering sigh, and Max was terrified for an instant that he’d pushed too far, that he’d made a mistake, then–

Ash peeked up, over the tops of his knees. His good eye was shiny, like he was close to crying, and his swollen one was even more puffy and inflamed. He gripped his cup tight between his hands. “You don’t have to say that.”

Max just rolled his eyes. “Look. I need to somehow get off this bed, and get into the shower. Can you promise me you aren’t going to run away while I do that? Then we can get your face...fixed. Then, if you’re here anyway…”

Ash’s face didn’t necessarily light up, but his eyes definitely grew brighter. “The roof?”

Nodding, Max allowed himself a small smile. “Roof of the Chevelle is due in around 11. If we can get that right rear quarter done today...we might be able to install it by next week!”

Ash finally let go of his knees and rose up enough that Max could see his entire face. “Awesome,” he said, then quieter, “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Max carefully moved his legs over. He was more stiff than anything now, and most of the pain had faded to a dull buzz. He was able to make it to standing with minimal effort, and even picked up his coffee again and drank it down. “Get me another cup,” he ordered, smiling as he walked past Ash to the bathroom.

Normally Ash would swear at him, or at least mumble something sarcastic and disparaging in defense. Instead he just nodded, and his eyes flicked back to his shoes.

Max wasn’t stupid enough to ask him if he was okay. Ash was hurting, and he was still trying to keep himself from shaking, and he was barely keeping it together, but at least he was __here__.

It wasn’t until he had the bathroom door fully closed and locked and the shower running, that Max allowed himself to feel the pure rage running through his blood. Someone had started pimping Ash out when he was fifteen. Someone had convinced Ash that it was his own fault. And as soon as Max figured out more specific details, __someone__ was going to get a fist to the face and a whole lot worse.

They paid the rent on time.

Ash’s mom was good to her word and showed up that night with a weeks worth of pay in advance. Ash made sure to get back to the park before the office closed. Together, they had enough for rent, and for electric, and even to head down to the 7-11 and buy another three phone cards and a carton of cigarettes. They bought slurpees on the way out–purple for his mom, blue for Ash–and she had the common decency to not ask about the state of his face.

The bruise faded to a sallow yellow by the next week, they had $256 sitting in the coffee jar, and Ash’s mom made a pact not to go back to the casinos. She cried a lot, and hugged him a lot, and Ash knew it wouldn’t stick, it never had before, but things were just different enough now with Max in the picture to make him hopeful.

He had a real, steady, over-the-counter job. He was gonna clean up his act, stop taking Arthur’s phone calls, and work his ass off to show Max that he was worth it.

He told his mom as much early Monday morning, when they were both trying to get into the bathroom at the same time to get ready for work.

“What d’ya mean he’s paying you?” she grunted, pushing Ash over enough so she could see herself fully in the mirror as she pinned up her hair.

“Because it’s a fucking job.”

“Watch your mouth, Ash–”

“Like you’ve ever cared before,” Ash groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fuck. Shit. Cocksucking whore.”

His mom didn’t even deign to look at him over that, just pinned one last strand into place, then started working at painting her eyes in garish purple.

“Hot date?” Ash snarked, pushing her back out of the way so he could wet his toothbrush.

His mom sighed, then went back to it, lining her eyes in dark black. “It’s not a date. He’s–”

“Sam du fom la wee?” Ash asked, mouth full of toothpaste.

Her eyebrows rose incrementally in the mirror, but she didn’t say anything until he shoved her over again to spit in the sink.

“Same dude from last week?” he repeated, bending down and slurping water from the faucet.

“Aslan Jade–”

“Don’t call me that–”

“Ash fucking Callenreese–”

“Better,” he grinned, then came back up and wiped the water from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You are a disgusting, filthy animal–”

“That you birthed…”

Now his mom just glared at him, waiting, waiting, waiting…”Are you–”

“You love me.” Now he started to laugh, watching as her face turned redder and redder. “Okay, okay, your turn. I suck, I know. Tell me about Mr. Babe.”

She smacked him on the back of his head, just hard enough to hurt. “Mr. __Babe__ is a retired army medic from Fargo and he’s actually a really decent guy. He’s taking me out tonight after my shift so I’ll be home late. Now would you __please__ get out of here and let me get ready for work?”

 _ _Really decent guy__ was usually code for douchebag, but unfortunately, those seemed to be the only men frequenting the diner his mom worked at. Ash figured his mom would catch on soon enough. “I mean...I gotta take a shit, but–”

“ASH!”

He laughed, then kissed her on the cheek before scurrying out of the bathroom. “Love you,” he called as he headed back to his room to grab shoes.

“Love you too, ingrate,” she yelled back, the door closing with a click.

The walk to Max’s usually took him about an hour, depending on how many cigarettes he decided to smoke along the way and how high he was at any given time. This last week, he’d been making it even faster. After the awful night with Dino, he’d been trying his hardest to give up the pills, and while it sucked balls, it also meant that he was full of a nervous energy that made him want to walk and walk and walk.

Unfortunately, being sober also meant dealing with the constant buzz of activity in his head. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that Dino wasn’t his fault, his brain just kept spinning.

__You said yes._ _

__You were paid._ _

__You said yes, you said yes, you said yes._ _

Ash flicked his cigarette butt into the street and flicked the volume up even louder on his phone, smiling as Led Zeppelin blasted into his eardrums even louder than it already was.

When he got there, Max hadn’t opened the garage door yet, but Ash just went through the office, unlocking it from the spare key that was stashed in the most likely of places–underneath the doormat. He headed down the short hall to the living space, threw his backpack on the couch, then headed to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee from the carafe that was already brewed. __Black as midnight,__ he could already hear Max joking. He knew it was from some stupid show from forever ago that Max apparently though was great enough to quote all the fucking time, but Ash could never remember the name. He sipped his black-as-midnight coffee for a second, listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom.

__Max was showering._ _

__Max was naked._ _

__Max was…_ _

Ash grimaced, then slammed the cup hard enough to slop coffee over the sides. No matter how he looked at it, Max was still content enough to kiss him, but when it got right down to it, Ash was used goods.

The water went on and on and finally Ash headed to the back hallway, grabbed the ancient Hoover that’s only purpose thus far seemed to be gathering dust, and set to work vacuuming the entire office, throwing odds and ends towards the couch and desk as he saw fit. He had made it all the way through the living space and turned back towards the front office when he finally realized that Max was shouting his name. Flicking off the switch to the vacuum, Ash turned around.

“Finally!” Max shouted, suddenly so loud against the quiet of the room.

He was wearing nothing but a towel, and was gripping a handheld safety razor. His hair was wet and mussed still, and Ash could see water beading at the fine hairs on Max’s chest. The rush of heat to Ash’s cheeks wasn’t unexpected, but still he had to bite his lip hard to focus. “What, _ _Dad__?” he asked, trying to insert just enough sarcasm that Max might not notice his stare.

“What are you __doing__?”

Ash bent down and gathered up the extra cord, looping it around his hand. “Vacuuming. This place is gross.”

Max just stared at him, mouth open, razor still poised at his jaw.

“Seriously?” Ash asked, still trying to keep to eye level and not...well...stray. “When’s the last time you vacuumed in here? When’s the last time you cleaned at all?”

The razor finally dropped enough that Ash was no longer concerned about it hitting Max’s jugular on accident, and Max had the audacity to still look affronted. “I clean! I do...lots of things?”

“Mhmm,” Ash said, the vacuum roaring to life again as he hit the switch. Max stopped trying to get his attention by yelling, and Ash just kept at it, working his way all the way down the hallway and back to the front door before finally shutting it down and wrapping the cord back up.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Max mumbled, coming up behind Ash and flipping the CLOSED sign in the window over. “I clean plenty.”

He was back in his orange coveralls, grease stains etched into the fabric. He had them fully zipped now, but Ash knew that by the time the sun really came up and the heat started wafting off the pavement, he’d slide out of the top half and tie the arms around his waist.

And Ash would do his absolute best not to stare.

“You don’t,” Ash scoffed. He rolled the vacuum back to the closet, easing the door closed, but when he turned around, Max was right there, pushing him back against the wall.

“You think I’m dirty?” he whispered, nosing at Ash’s neck enough to tickle.

“Stop!” Ash laughed, trying to push Max away. Max just pinned him in, placing his palms against the wall on either side of Ash’s head. “Max–”

“You want me to clean up?” he murmured, voice husky. He’d shaved, but not close enough because Ash could still feel bristles rub against his neck.

“Max–”

Max kissed up the side of his neck until his mouth was right at the shell of Ash’s ear. Ash could feel the whispery heat of his breath with every exhalation, and he bit his lower lip as goosebumps rose on his skin.

“So dirty,” Max groaned…

Then he pushed himself off the wall and grinned. “It’s why I hired myself a cute little housewife to clean up after my mess.”

Ash wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch him, or jump on top of him and finally chase that kiss that had almost lingered between them. “You suck,” he grumbled, wiping at the line of spit that Max had left in his wake. “And yes, you are dirty. You live like a fucking bachelor who has no clue how to actually take care of himself. ”

Shrugging, Max just brushed past Ash and grabbed a work towel from the closet, throwing it over his shoulder. “Didn’t seem to stop you from making a move, kiddo,” he called over his shoulder, heading down the hallway and out of sight.

“Fuck off,” Ash yelled. The only response he got was the sound of the screen door to the garage slapping closed.

Ash spent the rest of the day cleaning. Max poked his head in a few times just to make sure he was alright, but everytime Ash just shrugged him off, smiled and said he was happy.

It’s not like there was much for Ash to do in the garage anyhow–there were three customer cars back there right now that he wasn’t technically allowed to touch–so Max let him do his thing. He felt lucky that Ash had stuck around at __all__ after last week’s confession, and figured that if he needed the space, Max would let him have it.

The radio went out around 2, and no matter how many times Max smacked it, it didn’t sputter back to life. Usually he didn’t mind working in silence, but now that silence was giving him far too much space to think, and all he could think about was...Ash.

They hadn’t talked about it after that first early morning confession, and Max wasn’t planning on pushing. Ash had shown up for work promptly, every morning after–and his eyes had been clear, pupils normal. He hadn’t passed out on the couch once, and while he wasn’t talkative by any normal measure, he was definitely more lucid. Max was trying his best not to bring it up, or judge him for it, but Ash really seemed to be trying to knock the drugs.

As if on cue, Ash poked his head through the door. “Cigarette break?” he called down.

Max pushed himself out from under the Suburban he was under and grinned. “Good timing.”

“Tch,” Ash snorted. “It’s always good timing for you.”

They headed out the open garage and walked around the side of the building, where the dirt road wrapped around up to the shed. Max had to shimmy his jumpsuit around far enough that he could reach the pockets, but eventually he pulled out a carton and offered it to Ash.

“What a gentleman,” Ash muttered, grabbing a cigarette.

“Always.” Max grinned down at him as he snagged the lighter from the same pocket, then lit his own first.

Rolling his eyes, Ash waited, waited, waited… “Come on,” he growled. “Seriously?”

Max just leaned forward.

“Fucking feel like a dame,” Ash groaned, but he rose up on the balls of his feet, cigarette still in his mouth, and met Max in the middle, lighting it easily off of Max’s cherry.

“Did I miss the part where we traveled back in time to the roaring 30s there, __doll__?” Max took a deep drag in of his cigarette, then let it out, watching the smoke spiral up towards the bright blue sky.

“Whatever.”

“You get all your cleaning done?”

Ash made a sound of disgust. “Hardly. You’re disgusting, you know? Have you ever actually cleaned the coffee pot?”

“Uhh…” Max had to think about that for a second. “I mean...I rinse it. Every morning!”

“Have you ever actually cleaned the coffee pot like it is __supposed__ to be cleaned?”

“Ahh….”

“Like with vinegar. Come on. Vinegar and water, run it through the full cycle. Same with the washing machine, christ, you suck at this!”

Max could feel his cheeks starting to heat up, but he just kept smoking, trying to appear nonchalant. “I mean–”

“The vacuum cleaner was so clogged full of cat hair when I finished that I had to clean that out too. And your cat or whatever doesn’t even live here full time!”

“Okay, okay,” Max laughed, throwing a hand up in defeat. “I suck! I’m dirty! I got it.”

“At least the bathroom is okay,” Ash huffed.

He finally paused in his berating of Max long enough to actually smoke a bit, and Max couldn’t help but watch the way his lips closed around the filter, the way the skin at his throat moved as he swallowed. The sun was hot and unforgiving, but it made Ash’s hair shine gold, even as fuzzy tufts of it blew across his face.

“What?”

Max jerked up, fingers fumbling at his cigarette enough that he dropped it in the dirt. “Fuck,” he murmured, nose wrinkling in irritation.

Ash just laughed, then leaned up against the side of the shop, the black cotton of his faded Black Sabbath shirt snagging on the splintery siding of the wall. “That’s what you get.”

“For what,” Max grumbled, stubbing out the still glowing butt in the dirt.

“For staring at me.”

The way Ash said it was somehow different than normal, thicker, more languid. Max looked up at him just as the sun went behind a cloud and watched as the shining golden strands dimmed, becoming nothing but dirty blond.

And somehow, dirty blond was even better.

“I want to kiss you,” Max murmured, closing the gap between them. He reached for Ash’s hand, tugging the cigarette from between his fingers and dropping it to the dirt too, then he leaned in, nose brushing against Ash’s, staring at the vivid green of his eyes.

“So kiss me,” Ash murmured, consonants swollen and slow.

Max did.

He pushed up against Ash, close enough that he could feel Ash’s heartbeat through his own. Ash opened his mouth, let Max in, then he was kissing back too, pushing hard enough against Max’s mouth that it hurt. The sky around them grew darker and darker as clouds rolled in, brimming with rain. The air changed, humid and heavy, and Max could smell the wet a second before heavy raindrops started to fall. “We should go inside,” he whispered, lips moving against Ash’s, voice barely present.

“Mmm,” Ash moaned. He threw a hand around the back of Max’s neck, pulling him even closer.

Max could feel himself growing hard beneath the jumpsuit, but he could feel Ash too, and before he could think about anything else, his hands were at Ash’s waist, fumbling with the button of his shorts, then pushing them down just far enough that Ash’s briefs were visible, dark black against the pale milky skin of his stomach.

“Can I,” Max managed, throat suddenly so tight with want it was hard to breathe.

Ash just nodded, his breathing harsh and erratic, and then he put his hand over Max’s, guiding him down the hard plane of his stomach.

Max pressed the tips of his fingers underneath the elastic of Ash’s briefs, pushing down just a little. He could hear Ash give a little whimper, and he paused, watching again, waiting.

“Yes,” Ash whispered, eyes squeezed closed.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Max groaned, then he was kissing Ash again, tasting him, and his hand was wrapping around Ash’s erection. “I…”

Ash jerked into his hand, then gave a weak little laugh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes still squeezed closed.

Slowly, Max let his hand glide up until his thumb brushed around the head of Ash’s cock. He could feel wetness there already, and he fisted his other hand through Ash’s hair, not pulling, just trying to ground himself. Max bit his lower lip, hand pumping once at Ash’s cock. Ash gave another whimper of sound, and Max suddenly wanted to touch himself so badly it was almost impossible to ignore. He could feel a tight knot of desire growing deep within his belly and it was all he could do not to rut against Ash and find some friction. Instead, he focused on watching Ash–watching the way his eyes crinkled if Max pressed a finger hard against the base of his cock before drawing his hand back up, and listening to the little moans of pleasure Ash gave if he twisted his wrist before going back down again.

The rain fell hard against them now, and there was a rumble of thunder, deep in the sky. Max’s hair was plastered to his face, water running down the tip of his nose, and he kept going, kissing Ash deeper, hand moving quicker and quicker.

“Max,” Ash gasped, throwing his arms around Max’s neck and pulling at him. “Fuck, Max… I’m…”

His eyes were still squeezed tight, but his mouth was open now, and he was letting little moans of sound free as his hips stuttered against the wall, as he tried to buck into Max’s hand.

“I’m...I’m gonna...I’m gonna–”

Ash stiffened, breathing in a shuddery gasp of sound, and then he was spilling all over Max’s hand, thick and hot.

Max kept pumping him through it, nuzzling at Ash’s neck now, kissing down the curve of his collarbone, until Ash finally let go and sunk back against the wall.

He opened his eyes, but wouldn’t look at Max, just looked at the ground as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“Ash?” Max whispered. The rain was coming harder now, pelting them hard enough to bruise, and another roar of thunder sounded, even closer this time. His hand was coated in Ash’s cum, but it was being washed away now.

“I’m sorry,” Ash groaned, eyes closing tight again. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to...that was fast. Fuck.”

Max didn’t know what to say, so he settled for moving in beside Ash and leaning up against the wall, where they were shielded by approximately 1 inch of gutter overhang.

“You…” Ash murmured. “You...I should…”

His voice was hazy still, and he kept blinking like he did when he was high.

“I’m good,” Max murmured. He was. He was still rock hard, and he could feel a wet spot still growing inside of his own briefs, but Ash was happy, and that was all he’d wanted.

“I’m sorry I suck,” Ash groaned. “I didn’t mean to come that fast–”

“That was my first time.” The words were out of Max’s mouth before he could think them through, and as Ash turned on him, eyes wide with disbelief, he struggled to correct them. “Not ever! I mean, I’ve had sex...just. Girls? Fuck I don’t know!” His ears were turning red, and even though the day was hotter than hell, being sopping wet was starting to make him shiver.

“Seriously?” Ash asked. He grinned, then tucked himself back into his briefs and pulled his pants up. “Fuck. I don’t know why I said that!”

“It’s cute.”

Suddenly, Max was able to look absolutely anywhere but at Ash. “I hope it was okay,” he mumbled, feeling the flush of heat spread all the way down his neck.

“Passable.”

Max looked up at that, only to find Ash smirking at him. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

Shrugging, Ash just reached over and wrapped a hand around Max’s neck again, pulling him down for a kiss. “I know,” he murmured. “And you were great. For your first time and all.”

“Little shit,” Max mumbled. “Come on. We gotta get inside.”

Ash darted out first, running full speed around the shop and whooping and yelling like an insane person. A flash of lighting streaked across the sky, then Max followed him, screaming against the thunder all the way back to the garage.


	10. Chapter 10

The next weekend, it was so hot Max could see wafts of steam rising from the dirt road even though he’d left for his morning jog just as the sun was rising.

He’d felt good these last two weeks. Almost too good. Dr. Noyes had warned him that this might happen–that there would come a point in his decline where he might actually experience a lessening of symptoms and start to feel normal again. “End of life rally” Noyes had called it. Max didn’t think he was that close to the end–he certainly didn’t __feel__ that close–but he supposed he’d take what he could get. Running in the mornings was something that used to be so ingrained in his routine that it was like breathing, and starting up again gave him just enough of a buzz to pretend like things were almost normal.

This morning, as he hit the final curve of the drive back to the auto shop, he was gritting his teeth, and blowing out air, and doing everything in his power just to stay upright against the thick wall of humidity and unbearable heat. It was only a half mile jog, but it was the furthest he’d made it yet, and fuck if he wasn’t going to finish strong–

He rounded the corner to see a car parked in the lot.

Max pulled up short, wiping an arm across his forehead and grimacing as sweat continued to drip down his nose and off into the dirt. “Fuck,” he murmured, forcing himself to walk forward.

It was a beat up station dark green wagon– bottom half so rusted out that he was surprised it was still holding any form at all, and leaning against the driver side door was none other than Jennifer Callenreese herself.

She didn’t say anything as he approached, just crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down.

“Hey?” he offered, giving an awkward little wave.

One heavily pencilled eyebrow rose.

“Uh…” Max squeezed his eyes closed and pushed his wet hair back out of his face. “You want to come in?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t offer any explanation as to why she’d chosen to drive up here at 5 AM on a Sunday morning, but given the black dress and white apron, he figured she was still working at the old diner down on Main street and was just stopping by on her way there. He also figured what she was here to talk about.

Max grabbed the door and held it open for her, the little bells jingling quietly. Jennifer brushed past him without so much as a thank you, and he could already feel the fury rising off of her in waves.

“Look,” he started, but the second the door was closed, she rounded on him, anger bright in her eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but you do it away from Ash.”

“Ma’am–”

“Don’t Ma’am me. Ash is a kid. He’s a fucking kid, and he’s idolized you since he was barely old enough to talk, and you fucking come in here and–”

“He’s eighteen,” Max murmured. Jennifer’s eyes flashed so dark, he immediately regretted it.

“He’s eighteen, and he’s fucked up, and his goddamn brother died because of you and you still decide to fuckwith his head more!”

She was getting more and more worked up and Max had no idea what to say or do. He’d never intended it to go this far and...she was right.

“Ash has no one else anymore,” she went on. “He’s angry and hurting and then I find out he’s spending his days with you and...fuck. Fuck!” She let out a little sob, and pushed her fist against her mouth, eyes watering. “Griff __died__ because of you,” Jennifer hissed, then she turned around and leaned down on the counter, fists clenched so tight that Max could see every white line of her knuckles.

Max hadn’t realized how much it still hurt, to hear someone say that. He swallowed hard, then backed up to the far wall, sinking down against it. “I never meant for that to happen,” he murmured.

Jennifer didn’t respond.

The air conditioner kicked on for two seconds, then gave a horrible, stilted death rattle before going again.

“You should get that fixed.” She still didn’t move, she still sounded close to tears, but her voice was calmer now, no longer on the verge of hysteria.

“If I go smack it it’ll come back on,” Max said. He didn’t stand though. Just leaned his head back against the wall and looked up. “We both fucked up,” he said quietly. “Me and Griff. I get it. It’s on me. But it’s on him too.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking.

Then she buried her head in her arms and started crying.

There was a hollow pit inside of Max’s stomach that ached, but when he closed his eyes, he could no longer see Griff at all–only Ash. He could no longer remember the way Griff sounded when he laughed. A long time ago, somewhere behind the rusted metal swingset of the trailer park, they’d buried a time capsule together. They’d been only six or seven, and had used an old shoebox that they filled with everything precious they owned. Max had put in a little green army guy, three Coke bottle caps that he’d cleaned carefully with dish soap so they shined, and a rainbow heart shaped eraser that he’d gotten out of the ‘good grades’ box in school. Griff put in a couple of baseball cards, a tiny red bouncy ball that he’d knicked off of Ash’s dresser, and a blue piece of construction paper that he’d folded in half then in half again with his name and his phone number written in black pen. __Just in case someone finds it__ , he’d said. __So he can call me and give me back my baseball cards.__ They’d collapsed into a pile of giggles, then Griff got real serious again, and threw in the dog tags he always wore around his neck. __That’s in case_ ** _ **no one**_** _finds it,__ he’d said. __Then they’ll be gone forever.__ (The dog tags belonged to Jim Callenreese, and as soon as Griff had thrown them in, Max found himself wishing harder than anything that Griff’s second case scenario would come true– no one would ever see the box again.)

Max had been the one with the drugs. They’d experimented with the small stuff, but then there was an older boy at the highschool who’d walk over to the middleschool on his lunch break. He’d hang around the bleachers, smoking cigarettes, listening to music that was way too loud, and being ‘that guy’ that was so damn cool every middle schooler wanted to be near him.

He was also a dealer.

Most of it was small time stuff–Max usually only bought joints off of him–but a few times, he’d scored a small baggie of white powder. Then he and Griff would head over to that little park, get as high as they could, and then sit on the swings and pretend they could fly. (Griff didn’t trust the guy for a second, but he trusted Max. He shouldn’t have.)

Max quit it easy. He couldn’t stand the feeling of having no control, and the adrenaline rush of doing something forbidden wore off quick.

Griff got hooked.

Max winced, forcing himself away from memories he wished he didn’t have. Jennifer had stopped crying again, but she still wasn’t facing him.

“I saw you at the funeral,” she said, voice swollen with sadness. “And you’ve been by the cemetery. I find the...things you leave.”

“Sorry,” Max murmured, but he wasn’t. Not really. There was a small hole in his chest filled with nothingness where his best friend used to be. He had a right to mourn just like she did.

“Little army men,” she went on. “Matchbox cars. Silly things.”

They weren’t silly to him, but Max could tell she knew that, she just couldn’t bring herself to say it outloud.

“I never told Ash. About you.”

Blinking up at her, Max opened his mouth, then closed it again, confused. He thought for a second. “About me...finding Griff? Being with him at the end? I think it got around–”

“I know everyone knows you’re the one who found him, including Ash. But I never told him that I was the one to cut you out. He thought you disappeared. Thought you didn’t care anymore. He loved you even then, and I just hated it so much.”

Max looked down his knees.

“I’m trying.” Jennifer let out a long, shuddery sigh. “I didn’t know what to do with him for such a long time. He was a mess. I __am__ a mess. I could just feel him slipping further and further away and then…” She finally pushed up off the counter and turned to face him, eyes red and watery. “He started smiling again. A month or so ago. And then I realized it was you, and it made me so angry but...he smiles now. He looks happy–”

“I have cancer.” He blurted it out so fast he didn’t realize he’d even spoken until after the words froze in the air between them.

Jennifer’s nose wrinkled and she studied him, like she was waiting for a punchline.

It didn’t come.

“What?” she finally asked.

Max looked back down. His shoes were covered in the red clay that saturated the soil around here. It was built up enough around the treads and laces that it almost completely disguised the fact that they were originally white. “I have cancer. I’m dying. Doctor gave me a couple of months...about a month ago.”

There was a long, painful silence between them.

“What…?” This time she drew out the single syllable, making it stretch just a little bit too long.

His heart was hammering in his chest just a little too hard, the temperature in the room was just a little too hot, and his throat was suddenly just a little too dry to swallow. “I haven’t told anyone that yet,” he murmured. “I haven’t told Ash.”

“What kind?”

Max looked up at her again.

“What kind of cancer.”

“Pancreatic.”

“Are you in pain?”

Her expression didn’t change at all, and she didn’t offer condolences. She was stating everything in this cold and clipped manner, and her jaw was clenched tight, and her fingers curled into fists. She looked like she was about to start screaming again.

Max preferred it this way. He didn’t deserve her pity–this was a secret he’d hung onto far too long and he should have said a long time ago. __You should have said it to Ash__ , he thought. Max closed his eyes.“Some. A lot. I don’t know, it depends on the day.”

“And you haven’t told Ash.”

The guilt flared hot, and Max struggled to keep eye contact with her. “I haven’t. I will. Please let me do it? I’d rather it come straight from me.”

Jennifer’s lips came together, a hard line forming between them. “You tell him then,” she said. She pushed off from the counter and headed back to the door. “I’m going to be late for work. Tell him. And stop seeing him.”

“I can’t promise that.”

She turned back, eyes narrowed and piercing. “He’s been through enough, and he doesn’t deserve this shit. Stop. Seeing. Him.”

Max nodded, throat closing around any words he might have said.

It was apparently enough of a response. She left, bells tinkling behind her, and a few seconds later he heard the sound of the car door slamming, and the engine turn over.

The clock on the microwave read 5:54 AM. He stared at it until it clicked to 5:55. The coffee maker light flashed on from the timer he’d set last night, and soon the smell of coffee brewing filled the office. Max watched it as the pot filled more and more.

Everything hurt too much, and saying it just once to Jennifer made it feel more real. Max squeezed his eyes closed.

He needed to tell Ash.

But maybe it was soon enough to just...let Ash go. Maybe it was easier to just not say it at all.

The coffee maker beeped that it was done, but Max didn’t move off of the floor.

__Hole tonight. 11PM._ _

Ash stared at the text message, then swiped it off his screen before tucking his phone back in his pocket. The last time Arthur had invited him to the Hole, they’d dumped him at the truck stop and pulled away laughing. Then again, the last time Arthur had invited him to the Hole, Ash had been left to walk home and he just so happened to meet Max, setting off a chain of events that were definitely more positive than negative. He smiled, a shiver of anticipation wiggling its way down his belly. It was the first time in his life that Ash felt like he finally held some sort of power. It was the first time he’d felt worth more than the __trailer trash__ label Arthur had stuck on him in grade school. Max was nice, and funny, and smart, and fuck he kissed so well, and–

Ash grimaced, nose wrinkling in irritation. He sounded like a stupid, sappy, kid. He rolled off of his bed and grabbed his towel, then stopped at the door on his way to the bathroom. The mirror that hung on his door was crooked, and slightly warped along the edges, but Ash could see himself clear enough. His hair was greasy and matted to his head in places from sleep, and there were definitely pillow lines etched into his cheek. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday and then fallen asleep in. But his eyes were clear, and his face was ever so slightly rounded out, and he looked...healthy.

His phone buzzed again, and he pulled it out.

__You know you want to come…_ _

No. He fucking didn’t want to. But again, he just swiped the message away, then tossed his phone over to his bed. It was still early enough that he had plenty of time to shower and meander up to the shop before Monday morning opening. Ash was pretty sure that Max had more than one appointment booked today, so he figured he out to actually get in early enough to vacuum and make coffee before someone walked in the front door. He should also get there early enough to kiss Max...lean into him...

Ash groaned, back to being irritated at himself, and then he threw open his bedroom door and stomped down the hall to the bathroom.

It had only been three days ago when the rain started to fall, and Max pushed him against the siding of the garage. Ash could still remember the small, desperate sounds that Max made as he breathed against Ash’s neck. His fingers curved against Ash’s hips, pushing lower and lower, and Ash leaned into him, so desperate for touch–

The hot spray of the shower beat against Ash’s shoulders and he leaned against the tile wall, resting his head on his forearm and closing his eyes, letting his other hand trail lower, in between his legs. His cock was already hardening just thinking of Max, and Ash’s fingers brushed against his inner thigh as water ran down his back. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, hips canting slightly as he thrust into his hand, pretending it was Max again, pretending Max’s mouth was right against his ear, whispering.

__You’re perfect._ _

__You’re perfect._ _

__You’re perfect__.

Ash squeezed his eyes tighter, heat pooling at the base of his stomach as he pumped his cock harder, thumbing at the base of the slit and imagining Max kneeling down, kissing up Ash’s thighs and swallowing him whole–

The bathroom door swung open.

“Shit,” Ash gasped, straightening immediately and trying to control his breathing

“Ash, you’re taking fucking forever.”

Ash could see her form through the fogged up shower door as she grabbed her toothbrush and turned on the sink. “Mom, I’m trying to–”

“If you’re wasting bathroom time jerking off in there, I swear to god Ash, I’m going to smack you–”

“Mom!”

“We both have to be at work,” she mumbled around her toothbrush. “You’re not the only one who lives here.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO LEAVE FOR ANOTHER HOUR PLEASE GET OUT!”

His mom finished brushing, and turned to face the shower. “Grumpy. Fine. You’ve got five minutes, then that shower is mine.”

Ash waited until she was all the way back out of the bathroom, door safely closed, before moving again. “God fucking damnit,” he murmured, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and giving up all pretense of getting off.

The garage door was already open when Ash walked up the drive. He paused for a second to check his phone, but he was on time, Max was just...early? Shrugging, Ash walked up to the garage.

“Hey? You’re out here kinda early?”

Max gave a grunt from under the hood of the car, then peeked around just enough that Ash could see half his face, and his nose that was streaked with oil. “Needed to work,” he said, like that explained everything.

Shrugging, Ash headed back towards the door at the back of the garage. “You make coffee yet?”

“Nope.” He tucked his head back under the hood, and Ash could hear him scraping at something.

“Alright. I’ll make coffee? Get the place cleaned up and opened...you okay?”

“Yup.”

“Alright…” Ash kept watching for just a minute to see if Max would look up again, but he didn’t.

The coffee pot was missing from the maker and it took Ash a minute to even think to look in the dishwasher. When he did open that, there was a sparkling clean pot, a couple of the plastic pieces to the maker, one plate, one fork, one glass, and one spatula of all things.

Ash wrinkled his nose in confusion. Max never cleaned the coffee pot, and he rarely had cleaned the dishes he’d used for breakfast or even the night prior by the time Ash got into the office. Come to think of it…

Ash turned around, looking at the pullout bed, which was no longer a bed, but was a very neat little couch, cushions all in the proper places, rug pulled back as it should be. He looked down at the floor, at the carpet that was most definitely vacuumed earlier that morning.

It wasn’t so much that these were bad things, so much as these were different things, and change put Ash on edge. He put the coffee maker back together and found himself gnawing at a thumbnail as he filled the pot, All of this seemed so unusually not-Max that he couldn’t help but think that something was wrong, but then again, it was not like he’d known Max that long. Maybe Max had gotten just bored enough that he decided to shuck all previous personality traits and turn over a new leaf. Maybe there was a customer coming in this morning who was more important than all the rest.

__Maybe he regrets pushing you against the siding as the rain began to fall. Maybe he regrets touching you…_ _

Ash closed his eyes against the voices in his head and breathed in deeply, trying to center himself as much as he could, but he could feel the panicky anxiety already threatening to take him under. It was so stupid. It was such a little thing, but Max had barely looked at him when he walked in, and maybe Ash had read the entire situation wrong, maybe he was upset…

__“That was my first time.”__ he’d whispered.

He’d wasted it on Ash.

Ash smacked his hand down on the countertop and tried to breathe as the coffee maker shuddered to life and started it’s slow pour.

His heart was racing, and his throat was closing, and he never should have told Max about Dino...he never should have come here at all…

It was getting harder and harder to breathe and suddenly he remembered Max had pain meds. He rushed over to Max’s desk and opened drawers one at a time, looking for pills.

They were in the very last drawer he looked in– the one at the top right hand corner. There were three different bottles, three different prescriptions. Ash recognized the names on two. He squeezed his eyes closed, gripped the sides of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

__This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong…_ _

He couldn’t breathe.

Before he could think twice, he grabbed the fullest recognizable bottle, pinched his fingers around the cap, twisted it off, tapped three of the pills into the palm of his hand, and swallowed the oxycontin down dry.

“Fuck,” he murmured, still fighting the panicky buzz that was whiting out his vision. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He stayed hunched over the desk until he could breathe again, until the slivering tendrils of painkillers started curling up his arms and down his back. Then he carefully replaced the bottle, closed the drawer, and threaded his fingers through his hair.

__He’ll never know,__ the voice said.

“Fuck,” Ash whispered.

__He won’t find out,__ the voice said.

“Fuck.”

__Those aren’t the kind of painkillers that someone gets just for back pain…_ _

Ash pushed himself off of the desk, walked slowly back over to the coffee pot, and poured himself a mug of it. The clock on the microwave told him that only nine minutes had passed. Max hadn’t come back in, but Max didn’t always come back in, and maybe this was fine. Maybe this was normal.

He could feel the drugs threading their way through his system, numbing everything. He missed this. This was so much better than feeling everything around him–

His coffee mug slammed against the counter, spilling hot liquid all over his hand. Ash blinked and looked up at the clock, realizing that another three minutes had gone by and he’d been falling asleep.

Oxy’s shouldn’t be doing this much damage, but he hadn’t really thought to look at the dosage on the bottle, and...shit.

He gave a little laugh.

He was already fucked up, the anxiety was already dulled to almost nothing. There was the tiniest flicker of guilt that he’d wanted to stop doing this shit because Max deserved better–but that was quickly overridden by the pure bliss of no longer caring.

Ash nursed his coffee while he paced the office, straightening the pens by the counter, emptying the trash, flipping on every lightswitch. As soon as his phone showed 9:00 he unlocked the front door and flipped the sign to open. Then he finished his coffee, washed the mug, and headed back out to the garage.

Max was still working under the hood of the car, and the only sound accompanying him was the buzz of the cicadas outside.

“You could get with the 21st century and plug in your phone for music you know,” Ash called, sitting down on the cement steps.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Max grunted, head still inside the car.

“For someone who’s ancient maybe…”

“You can set it up if you want!”

Max totally let the ancient jibe slide by, and his voice sounded too cheery, and Ash knew it was the damn paranoia taking hold again, but he just couldn’t help it. “Max?”

“Yup.”

He still hadn’t looked up, and Ash swallowed hard. “Uh...I’m gettin’ kind of a strange vibe.”

“Oh?” Max finally pushed up from under the hood and wiped a hand across his brow. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, he had oil and dirt across his nose and down his neck, and Ash wanted to kiss him more than anything in the entire world.

“I just mean…” Ash wrinkled his nose, then leaned back on the steps, red converse clad feet kicked out in front of him in a pose that he hoped looked cool, and nonchalant, and like he hadn’t just stolen Max’s meds because of a stupid panic attack. “You cleaned inside? And you haven’t really said much since I got here?”

Max’s eyes flickered up as he started chewing his lower lip. “Fuck, sorry. This goddamn car sucks.”

“Oh?”

“Fucking Rams. Oil filter’s between the frame and block and there’s a bunch of piping and other shit in the way. Oil change should take 10 minutes and this one has taken me 45.”

“Oh.” The sun was just high enough now that there was a bar of it crawling across the floor of the garage, lighting the back end of the truck so bright it was blinding if he looked at it too long. “Is the owner expecting it this early? I can go back in the office–”

“No, no, I just needed to do something. Got antsy, figured I’d get it done early.”

Max still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Same reason you cleaned for the first time in your life?” He tried to smile at the jab, but he was having trouble forcing his face into it when everything felt so horribly wrong.

“Yeah. About.”

Max looked back over at the engine, and Ash took a deep breath, then forced himself up and down the steps, over to where Max was standing. He looped a hand around the back of Max’s neck, pulled him down for a kiss, and–

Max broke it fast, then leaned back. “Sorry, right in the middle–”

“Are you angry at me?”

“What?” Max looked at him, completely incredulous. “No! Of course not–”

“You’re barely looking at me. You stress cleaned the entire office before I got here. You were almost done working on a customer car before we even opened.” Everything he said seemed to come out completely monotone, and Ash frowned, not sure if he was happy that all emotion had been muted by the drugs, or if he was upset that he was unable to access something so simple as inflection.

“Ash...it’s not–”

“I didn’t mean to make you touch me.” The words were out before he could even consider the meaning behind them, but now Max was gaping at him like a fish out of water. Ash stood up. “I’m sorry, I can go–”

“That’s…” Max kept blinking, mouth open, completely unable to form a thought. “That’s not why I...fuck, Ash. You didn’t make me do anything, that’s not what’s…” He winced, eyes closed for just a second, then he moved out from under the hood of the car and walked over to the base of the stairs. “Look. I’m...I’m not a great guy. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and…”

For just a second he looked like he wanted to say something else, then he grit his teeth so hard that Ash could see his jaw tense.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Not like...I want you to keep working here, I’ll keep paying you, but you deserve more than what I have to offer, and I’m sorry you got caught up in this, and we just probably shouldn’t kiss anymore or...anything like that.”

It was the most ridiculous, shallow, unbelievably fake reasoning that Ash had ever heard. “I’m sorry...” Ash started, trying to form words while taking in the slew of shit Max had just thrown his way. Now it seemed like his consciousness was above his body, watching every single back and forth between them as though completely impartial. “ _ _What__?”

Max blinked, then looked back down at Ash’s shoes. “I just mean that you...I’m not good enough for you. And so I think we should end this now.”

__It’s not him,__ his brain helpfully supplied. _ _It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you–__ “Ash, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this like–”

“No,” Ash said. He was surprised his mouth still worked at all. “That’s fine. I get it. I’m gonna head out”

“That’s not what I mean, Ash– I still want you to stay here. You can still work here, I’ll keep paying you–” “Yeah, you said that. But no thanks.” He still had enough presence of mind to realize that Max looked green around the edges, that his voice sounded just as panicked as Ash had felt twenty minutes earlier before his entire world had blown up in his face, but Ash just couldn’t bring himself to care. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

He walked through the hall, past the couch, over to the kitchen where he’d left his backpack. Max followed him in and kept talking, kept trying to touch Ash, to make Ash look at him…

Ash was numb to it. There was nothing but hollow space and the dizzy warmth of painkillers inside of him.

__Tell him you love him__ , the voice begged.

“Ash, stay,” Max pleaded.

“See you around,” Ash repeated, the words still familiar on his tongue, but all meaning lost.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning**  
>  Mentions of non-con

Arthur picked him up outside the 7-11. Ash was leaning against the same wall that he had when Dino picked him up, smoking a cigarette, and trying his hardest not to draw parallels between the two events because all that did was lead him right back to Max and thinking about Max was currently off-limits.

He watched the truck pull in, and noted with some amount of disinterest that Jessica was in the back bed this time–along with a couple of other kids from school. There was no one in the front passenger seat, and as Arthur pulled up to him, he patted at the seat, making it obvious that it was reserved for Ash.

“Didn’t figure you’d actually come,” Arthur taunted as Ash crawled in.

“I can leave.” “Naaa, then you’d miss out, and you don’t want to miss out on a party at the Hole.” The way he delivered that line–sly smile that bared over just the tops of his teeth–made Ash uncomfortable, but he was also well on his way to being past the point of caring about anything at all. “Wouldn’t wanna miss out,” he grumbled, leaning his head against the window and watching the lights fade as Frederick drove out of town. The high from Max’s meds had faded hours ago, and Ash had flushed all his good stuff a few weeks back, so now he was back to relying on shitty, headache inducing spray paint. Even that was fading fast now, and now there were all sorts of irritating emotions bubbling against the walls of Ash’s insides and making him nauseous. “You got anything on you?” he said, eyes flickering over to Arthur.

“So eager,” Arthur said, slowing to a stop at the second to last traffic light in town. “Glove box. You’ll owe me...”

Arthur smiled again, nasty and feral as the promise hung between them, but Ash just nodded and quickly reached over, opening the glove box. Inside, there was a small baggie with a few joints, another bag with a suspiciously large amount of white powder, and a small pill container. “Got enough shit?” Ash replied, grabbing the pill bottle. Weed just made him tired. Cocaine made his heart race. Pills knocked the emotion straight out of him and that’s what he needed. He checked the label this time, then tapped four into the palm of his hand and swallowed them down before replacing the bottle.

He didn’t realize Arthur was watching him until he closed the compartment back up.

“Fuck, Callenreese. Bad day?”

“Something like that.” Ash leaned his head back against the window and waited for the percocet fog to start working at the constant anxious buzz in his head.

The Hole was twenty minutes outside of town, and as Arthur parked alongside the railroad tracks, Ash fought down the twisting apprehension in his gut that this had been a bad idea. It was almost pitch black out here, and though the tunnel was only a couple of yards in front of them, he could barely see the yellow caution tape.

They climbed out of the truck, rounding to the back of it. “We’re here, my ladies,” Frederick announced, bowing down like an idiot as what seemed like the entire cheerleading squad climbed out of the bed.

Jessica gave Ash a little wave, but he ducked his head down, pretending not to see her. He had no idea why he was here, this was a stupid idea, all he was doing was trying to get away from the idea of __Max__ , and now he was out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people who he couldn’t stand.

Another pair of headlights pulled in next to them, and then a third car rumbled up. Ash knew a few of the guys from his year, but there were some older ones too–people he thought he recognized as graduating a few years above him. Folks that were still around in town, apparently doing nothing with their lives besides partying with highschoolers.

“Ash?”

Ash looked up. “Oh. Hey Alex.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you out here...how’s summer?”

Doing his best not to roll his eyes, Ash trudged over. Alex had been his partner in physics and he wasn’t half bad to be around, as far as human beings go, but Ash also didn’t particularly care to have a deep conversation with the guy. “Fine. You?”

Shrugging, Alex smiled at him. “Not much. Workin’ at my dad’s hardware store downtown, but otherwise just hangin’ out.”

“Mmm.” Their conversation fizzled out, and Ash awkwardly stood around, watching as one of the older guys cracked open a couple of 45s and started passing them around. Another car pulled up, and a few of the guys started whooping loudly. Ash saw Arthur climb up on top of the tracks and give the loudest holler. For just a second, the headlights from another car pulling in lit him up and he looked like a boy on fire, ready to burn forever. Then the lights flickered out, he was cast in darkness again as another couple of guys poured out of the new truck.

Arthur skidded down the pebbled hill of the tracks with a wave, and Ash watched one guy peel off and throw an arm around Arthur’s shoulders as they talked, heads together.

“Who’s that?” Ash asked, even though a frigid tendril of icy cold was already snaking its way to the pit of his stomach. He recognized him, but he just was really hoping–

“Mark,” Alex said. “He’s older. He’s got a younger brother around here somewhere who was a couple classes ahead of us in school...Alex rose up on the balls of his feet, looking around the group of teenagers and twenty-somethings. “There,” he said, pointing. “Christian. Think they’re from the trailer park.” His eyes flickered up as he said it, and thought it was dark, Ash could still see his cheeks start to flush. “Sorry, didn’t mean to say it that way…”

The cold settled hard in Ash’s stomach, and swallowing was starting to hurt. “I need a drink,” he said, then shoved past Alex, over to the boys with the malt liquor. “You got more?” he asked, eyes on the brown haired guy who was leaning against the open door of a blue station wagon.

The guy’s eyebrows rose as he sized Ash up. “Lauren!” he yelled over his shoulder, eyes not leaving Ash’s. “Grab me another.”

No sooner was a tepid, open 45 pushed into his hands by a tall, blonde girl with a hot pink tank top than someone grabbed Ash’s arm and spun him around.

“Arthur,” Ash growled, yanking his hand back and swallowing down as much of the alcohol as he could. “Why’s that asshole here.” He motioned with his head towards the older guy, who was now surrounded by half the cheerleading squad.

“Where else do you think I source the good stuff, little lynx.”

He reached out and tried to ruffle the top of Ash’s hair, but Ash smacked his hand away. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Awww, scared someone might find out about your alter-ego? About what you get up to late at night after they’re all snuggling in their cozy little beds?” Arthur’s smile had grown even bigger and he was in constant motion. He’d been hitting the cocaine. “Fuck off, Arthur.” Ash tuned the other boy out, still watching the older guy who was definitely handing out little bags of something in exchange for cash.

“You know Mark?” Arthur said, stepping into Ash’s vision and forcing him to look up. “Oh that’s right...he’s trailer trash just like you. __He__ got out though.”

Ash didn’t know the finer details of Griff’s decline into heavy drugs, but he sure as fuck knew that it started with Mark, and it ended with Griff taking his last breathes with a needle in his arm. Rage was building inside of him, thick and viscous, and he brought the bottle to his lips, chugging down the shitty malt liquor like his life depended on it.

“Jesus,” Arthur said, watching as Ash finished, then threw the bottle against the tracks, glass exploding everywhere.

A few people looked over, another cheer went around, and then folks started crawling back up the tracks and heading down towards the tunnel–into the Hole.

“You really wanna get fucked up tonight, huh?” Arthur asked, grabbing Ash’s arm again and pulling him along.

“Don’t touch me,” Ash growled.

“Fine.” Arthur dropped his hands, then easily scaled the tracks as Ash followed. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, __Lynx__.”

Ash wanted to find a retort for that, but the alcohol combined with the percocet was now causing his vision to sway sickeningly and it was all he could do to keep one foot in front of the other and not trip over one of the ties.

Once inside the tunnel, everyone’s voices started to echo and bounce off the walls so it was impossible to tell who was standing where, or who was saying what. They didn’t go too deep in–just slipped underneath the caution tape and walked around the curve of the structure to a more open chamber that looked like it had been used for some sort of storage around the tracks. There was an old rusty garbage can that someone had dragged in, and a few people started filling it with sticks and wood. Pretty quickly they had a fire going, and Ash sank down against the wall, not sure if he was trying to stay out of the way, or trying to blend in just enough that no one even knew he was there.

Jessica was sitting across the tracks from him, and she looked over, gave him a little smile, then allowed herself to be pulled up by one of the older guys Ash didn’t know. They started dancing, rocking back and forth, slow and simple, and then they were kissing, and then the guys hands were under her shirt, and Ash couldn’t seem to care enough to look away.

There were more people making out, and other people drinking. Everything was hazy, fuzzing in and out of his vision.

Someone lit a few of the tiny popper fireworks they sold at the grocery store and threw them in the can, laughing as they exploded in tiny sparks of white. There was too much noise, and too many people. The night was already the awful humid kind of heat that came right before a huge storm, and between that and the fire roaring in front of him, Ash was starting to feel sick.

“You good, kid?”

Ash looked over, suddenly having trouble remembering how to blink. The girl swam in and out of focus for a second, but he recognized the bright pink. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Lauren, right?”

“Yup.” She sat down next to him, scooching way too close, and pulling a knee to her chest. She was wearing a denim miniskirt that was so short, Ash could see the flash of pink panties underneath, bright against the milky white of her thigh. He blinked again, realizing she probably intended it that way.

“You’re cute,” she said. “You still in school? You’ve just got the prettiest eyes…” She let out a giggle, then put a hand on Ash’s knee.

She was too loud, just like everything else was too loud. Her top two teeth were just crooked enough that Ash could see a small gap between them. He wondered if kissing her would be like kissing a John, or if maybe it would be more like kissing Max.

“He doesn't swing your way,” Arthur announced, nudging over on Ash’s other side.

“Huh?” Lauren asked, nose wrinkling in confusion. She took her hand back off of Ash’s knee.

“Faaaaag…” Arthur said, hushed enough Ash was pretty sure no one else heard. Regardless, Lauren gave him one more once over, then stood up. “Whatever,” she said, then walked back around the firepit and over to another group of guys.

“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Ash growled, moving to stand up, but Arthur just yanked him back down. It was jarring enough that Ash’s vison swayed again, and he had a single mortifying moment where he thought he might be sick in front of everyone.

“Damn, you’re so fucked up,” Arthur laughed. “Here. Got something new for you.” He held out a hand, and there were two identical tablets sitting there–both a light blue color.

“Not interested.”

“Aww, you don’t even have to pay me back for these ones.”

“Not interested.”

Arthur’s fist closed around the pills again and he drew back for a second, considering. “Fine. No pressure. But if you’re gonna be a pansy ass little bitch, then I’ll take my payment for the four percs now.” He grabbed at his crotch, eyebrows raised, snide little smile plastered on his face.

“Fuck. Off.” Ash drew his knees up to his chest, still trying to blink away the nausea from before. Arthur didn’t move, but his smile turned over into a very dangerous looking scowl.

“You can either take the gift, or I can call up your favorite client. He left me some great reviews from the other night. Said you were oh so eager to please…”

Ash swung a fist out towards Arthur’s face, but Arthur just dodged out of the way, fast enough that Ash hit the rock wall. He cursed, bringing his hand back and wiping bleeding knuckles on the side of his shirt.

“Touch a nerve there, little __lynx__?”

“What do you fucking want, Arthur.”

“Just this…” Arthur opened his hand again, and there were the two little pills, so innocent looking in the flickering light from the fire.

“What are they?”

“Nothing crazy! Just a couple of Roxys.”

“I already took four fucking percocet I don’t need anything else.”

“Fine.” His fist closed again, and Arthur fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his iphone. “Wanna see the pictures Mr. Golzine sent over?”

Ash’s head snapped up at that. Everything else to that point he could ignore, every single one of Arthur’s fucking jabs, every stupid little joke. This wasn’t funny though. If Dino had actually sent...if there were pictures of Ash...his breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard. “He didn’t send you pictures…” he said, hoping that his voice was steady.

Shrugging, Arthur kept flipping through his phone.

“Delete them.”

“Awww, __now__ you’re all worried about your dignity? Face it, Callenreese. You’re a whore.”

“I know. Delete them.”

Arthur reached over and opened his fingers one more time, the blue pills right in front of Ash’s nose.

Fighting the urge not to scream, Ash reached out.

“Ah ah. Use your mouth. I know you’re good at it.

Every fiber in Ash’s being told him to bite Arthur’s hand, but he didn’t, just licked up the pills straight from Arthur’s palm, then swallowed.

“Good boy.”

“Fuck you.”

Arthur leaned over, wrapping fingers around Ash’s neck and pulling him close. “Those are from Mark,” he whispered. “Says he’s sorry about your brother.”

Ash stiffened, then Arthur pushed him over hard, and for a long second, Ash couldn’t get his bearings enough to get back up on his knees. By the time he looked up again, Arthur had disappeared into the crowd.

Music started somewhere, loud bass filling the cavern, and the mass of bodies began to move, twisting and turning, dancing, and touching. Ash tried to get up and stumbled into the wall, bumping into a couple who were making out. “Sorry,” he mumbled when the girl swore at him, then he pushed off the wall again, trying to find the way he came in, unable to tell any direction at all.

It only took a couple more minutes for Ash to realize that whatever Arthur gave him was more than just pure Roxy. He was too hot. He was starting to itch everywhere, skin burning underneath his clothes. It felt like tiny spiders were crawling all over his body, except the spiders turned to centipedes, except the centipedes turned to cockroaches, and when Ash opened his mouth he started swallowing them. He tried to crunch the shells between his teeth but then they exploded and he choked on the taste of fireworks and soot.

Someone was calling his name, someone was grabbing at his arm, someone had their fingers in his hair, and he was back in that hotel room with Dino while someone laughed, and someone moaned, and someone forced their cock down his throat–

Whore.

Ash stumbled against another wall, and everything turned blue. If he blinked there were stars. If he swallowed, there was poison. He stayed as still as he could, waiting for the constellations to brush against his skin, and there was blue, blue, blue, like Max’s eyes, and if Ash ran fast enough, maybe he could get to the ocean before time was up.

The music got louder the more he moved, until he was certain that he was the music, that the deadly bass was bursting from within his skin, that if he didn’t stop singing, the notes would rip right through his chest and leave nothing behind, a hollow, gaping hole where a brother who loved him used to be.

Whore, someone shouted, or maybe he just thought it again.

“Alex?” he murmured, but the name tasted like gauze. __Max...Max...Max…__

Ash blacked out.

Something nudged against his stomach, and Ash groaned, trying to flip his body over so the centipedes wouldn’t touch him anymore...except that wasn’t right. That didn’t make any sense. “Uh…” he tried, mouth so dry he could barely make a sound at all.

 _ _Ash. Ash. Ash. Ash.__ “Ash!”

Ash blinked his eyes open, then winced at the brightness of stars...no. A flashlight. It was just a flashlight.

“His pupils look okay?” A girl said, only she didn’t really say it so much as question it, and Ash was about to bring up the fact that if she didn’t really know what they were looking for, they probably shouldn’t be the ones judging an overdose. Instead, he rolled over and puked.

“Oh gross,” someone else said.

“Ash,” that same girl called, and there was another nudge against his stomach.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing to his knees and wiping a hand across his mouth.

“You okay? Fuck, you got totally wasted!”

“Jessica?” Her face finally came into view, her perky blonde ponytail far more of a mess, and her make up more smeared than the last time Ash had seen her.

“Yeah, shit, you okay?" she repeated. "Arthur?” Her head turned as she called. “Arthur, you fucked him up!”

“He’s fine.”

Arthur’s shoes came into view, and Ash realized he’d never noticed how white they were–how they were suspiciously unsoiled by the red clay that stained everything else. “What’dya give me,” Ash mumbled, trying to keep himself from being sick again. There was an awful taste at the back of his throat, and he couldn’t remember anything, and the drugs were fading just enough that he was starting to panic. “Arthur–”

“Just fun things! You’re the one who had to go and fuck it up. You owed me a few favors, was just trying to loosen you up.”

“What do you mean, favors?” Jessica asked, just as Ash lurched forward and puked again.

“Jessica, go wait in the car.”

“Fuck you, Arthur,” she swore, but she marched away, leaving Ash and Arthur alone.

“What did you do?” Ash hissed. “What did...I...”The more lucidity he gained, the more aware of how much everything hurt he became.

“Told you. You owed me some favors. You paid ‘em back. We’re good now.”

“Arthur–”

“Arthur knelt down, and suddenly his fingers were in Ash’s hair, stroking it back out of his face so gently it was almost comforting. “You’re so damn good a sucking cock, figured I’d make use of it,” he whispered, eyes on Ash the entire time. “Don’t worry. You got paid.” He pushed a wad of bills into the pocket of Ash’s jeans, then tapped him on the shoulder once before standing up. “Mums the word, pretty boy.”

“Arthur–” Ash couldn’t find words for anything else, every time he spoke he thought he was going to be sick again. “Did you even...did you have photos…”

Laughing, Arthur kicked at a rock that was in Ash’s vision, and he could hear it hit the side of something hard. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter much, a whore’s a whore’s a whore. Now come on–you wanna ride back to town? Gotta get Jessica home before her Daddy notices and it’s getting real late.”

Real early is what he should have said–Ash could already see the purple hues creeping over the horizon.

“Come on, Callenreese.”

Arthur walked away, and Ash focused all his energy on standing.

He couldn’t remember anything.

His throat hurt. His hands were starting to shake.

He couldn’t remember anything.

He blinked and thought of centipedes. He blinked and thought of the color blue.

There was nothing else there, just a black void, and the taste of something awful on his tongue.

Ash got himself to the truck and settled into the passenger seat. His head hurt. He couldn’t swallow right.

And he couldn’t remember anything.

Max didn’t see Ash the next day, or the one after that...or the one after that. He’d tried texting a couple of times, tried calling once, but his cell sat with no messages, and no missed calls. Max knew he’d fucked everything up royal, but he just...his choices were fucked no matter what. Jennifer Callenreese was right–he had no business fucking with Ash’s head anymore. He should have told Ash the second the kid had shown up in his driveway that he was dying, and he should have just left it at that. Let Ash help out with the cars and nothing more.

And short of that?

He should have told Ash he was dying instead of telling him they shouldn’t see each other anymore.

Hindsight was a bitch though, and knowing all of that didn’t make it hurt any less. Max had been alone just long enough that he’d started to think that happiness was the color of dirt and cars and more dirt. Then Ash showed up and it turned out dirt is not only brown, but red and copper and orange. That the smell of rain was even better when there was someone standing next to him. That it was okay if the radio cut out and didn’t come back on again because there was another voice nearby to fill in for the silence.

To stop seeing Ash was the right thing to do, but he’d handled it like shit, Ash had stormed out, and now there was a hole eating through him that felt larger than the one left by cancer, and he didn’t know what to do.

A high pitched squeak sounded down near his ankles, and Max looked down to see Kat there, sitting proudly in front of what looked like a very dead, and very half eaten shrew.

“Thanks,” he said, then leaned down and gave her ears a quick scratch. She meowed again, then picked up the shrew and trotted off down the hall where, best case scenario, she’d vanish back out the garage and consume the rest of her prize somewhere outside.

Max ran a hand through his hair, then picked up his phone again and sent another text.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon now, and he watched it for another minute before finally conceding that he stunk way too much from the day’s work to consider collapsing on the bed yet. He shrugged out of his jumpsuit and threw it in the wash on his way to the shower–then, realizing there was no one around to give a shit about propriety–he stripped down the rest of the way, tossing in the oil stained tank top, athletic shorts, and disgustingly sweaty briefs he’d been wearing. Max started up the washing machine before heading back down the hall for the shower.

Max grimaced at himself in the mirror as he shut the bathroom door. His eyes were tired and red from far too little sleep. The pain seemed to get worse the less he moved, and the nights had been so bad recently that he’d taken to just dosing up on meds before even thinking about falling asleep. Even that wasn’t frequently enough to cut through the agony of every breath.

There were purple bags under his eyes that looked so dark they might have been bruises, and his skin looked sallow under the orange glow of the bathroom lighting. His arms were still well muscled, but he could tell he was starting to lose body mass. He looked too skinny, and his jaw was too defined. It was a wonder Ash had found anything there worth staying around for in the first place.

Max groaned at that morbid thought, then moved away from the mirror and turned on the shower.

He was lonely.

There had been just enough time when Ash was there that he’d almost forgotten how terrifying loneliness could be. The doctors had tried to get him to accept medical treatments and extend his life and that just seemed like an enormous waste of time, effort, and money. He was going to die no matter what they did, he’d rather go out on his own terms.

Then they’d taken to pushing hospice. Tried to get him into an end of life care facility. He’d considered it for a week, but again, it was extremely expensive, and for what? It wasn’t like he had anyone to come visiting.

He was going to die alone, and he’d made his peace with that.

Then Ash showed up.

The shower was too hot on his skin, but Max thumbed the nozzle even further, wincing as it scalded his flesh. It hurt, but he knew he’d be thankful for it later. It loosened his muscles up just enough that it staved off the worst of the pain just a little longer.

He toweled off in the steam, making sure to not to make the mistake of looking at himself in the mirror again. He made it out back to the hall closet, opening the second of the two accordion doors and revealing a couple of jumpsuits hanging up, and a black suit that was probably way too big on him at this point. He didn’t know why he’d kept the thing in the first place. The last time he’d worn it was to sit in his car outside of Griff’s funeral, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put it on again without throwing up.

There was a small dresser behind the clothes, and the top drawer stuck as he pulled it. Swearing, Max pushed it tightly closed again, yanked out the second drawer, then closed that one as he pulled on the first. It opened this time, and he grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, then quickly dressed. He’d only been a few minutes, and the washing machine hadn’t cycled yet, so he opened the top of that and threw in the towel he’d just used before heading back out to the desk, swallowing down meds, and collapsing on the pullout.

His phone buzzed.

Max reached for it so fast he almost fell out of bed again. It wasn’t Ash. It was an unknown number, and he tapped on it to read the full message.

__I don’t know what you said, but the goal here wasn’t to hurt him more. He won’t talk to me, something is really wrong, I haven’t seen him this fucked up since Griff so I don’t know what to do. Please call me._ _

Max swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ash, but he knew that if Ash was pissed off enough not to talk to him for three days, so he wasn’t really sure how he could help the situation. That said, the fact that Jennifer was willing to reach out to him of all people was terrifying. He swallowed again, squeezed his eyes closed, and hoped to god the damn painkillers wouldn’t kick in before he could make an attempt at sounding like a reasonable adult.

The phone rang only once before she picked up.

“Max.”

“Hey…”

“What did you say to him?”

He’d take offense, given that she’d been the one to give him the ultimatum in the first place, but Jennifer sounded like she was drunk, just shy of her own panic attack, and like she was barely holding back tears. “What’s wrong with Ash?” he asked, aiming for calming, and instead sounding like he was on the offensive.

“I don’t know. He went to your place on Monday. Didn’t come home. Next time I saw him was Tuesday night when I got home from work and he was so high he didn’t even recognize me. He won’t talk to me, he’s got pills stashed somewhere and I can’t find them, I’m afraid…I don’t know. Fuck. Fuck, what did you say to him?”

“He didn’t come home Monday?” Max was having trouble deciphering everything with how fast she was talking.

“Right. Sunday morning I stopped by your place–”

“Yeah.”

“Right, and he went to work on Monday and I figured you’d just tell him. Did you tell him?”

“That you wanted me to break up with him or that I have cancer, Max wanted to bark, but he held back. “I told him we shouldn’t see each other in that way anymore. And I told him I still wanted him to work for me. And then he left.”

“He left?” Her voice pitched higher, and her breath sounded even harsher in the phone.

“Yeah, I–” “I thought he’d stayed with you that night. I thought he’d been with you until Tuesday–”

“He didn’t,” Max cut in. “But Jennifer, he’s an adult, he was probably with a friend or something–”

“He doesn’t have friends.”

Harsh, but knowing Ash, probably true. Max winced. “He’s probably...I don’t know...probably upset, but I’m sure he’ll be fine?” Even saying it made Max angry. This wasn’t his fault, this was her fault, she told him to do it but–

 _ _You didn’t have to__ , a voice nagged in his ear.

“Look, could you just have him call me?” The drugs were starting to work, he could feel his limbs getting heavier and heavier, but there was also a profound sadness to it now. He wanted to see Ash.

“He’s not here!” she yelled, giving into frustration.

Max didn’t know what to say, he just sat there wordless, phone to his ear as Jennifer screamed at him. Then there was the sound of a key in the lock, and he pushed himself up a little straighter. “Jennifer–”

“WHAT” she yelled.

“He’s here. It’s fine, he’ll be fine, okay?”

She kept yelling into the phone as Ash stepped around the corner. “Who’s that,” he murmured, swaying ever so slightly on his feet.

“Your mom,” Max said. Then he turned back to the phone. “Jennifer, I’m hanging up now. Okay? Okay.” Then he put the phone down and watched as Ash stumbled further into the room.

“Ash? You alright?”

“Fuckin’ high as shit...fuck…” he bumped into the desk and knocked the lamp off into the garbage can, then burst out laughing. “Fuck, sorry, fuck…”

“Ash, I can’t get up, I threw out my back and–”

“Yeah, yeah, old man. Your back…”

Ash finally made it over to the bed and promptly crawled up next to Max, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

“Your shoes are on the bed,” Max said.

“Like you care.”

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

He drew his knees up to his chest, but otherwise didn’t move, didn’t say anything else.

Max’s phone buzzed again, but he didn’t reach for it. Ash was here, and there was no one else he needed to talk to.

“I think my mom’s worried about me,” Ash murmured, still not opening his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit. What have you been doing?”

“She’s not around much,” Ash continued, easily deflecting Max’s question. “She gets all worried and it’s really none of her fucking business because she’s never there anyway.”

Max shrugged. “She’s probably trying?”

“Tch.” His eyes flickered open, pupils blown wide by drugs again, but the sliver of green around them was even brighter than Max remembered. “How sick are you?”

The question hit so much harder than Max could have anticipated, and he spent way too long trying to swallow it down and process.

Ash gave an irritated little sigh, then let his head fall back against the top of the couch. “It’s not your back. I’ve seen your pills–they don’t prescribe that shit for back pain.”

“I…”

“How sick are you?”

His consonants were just a little too round to be completely sober, but Max could understand him well enough, and he knew how to answer it was just…

Terrifying.

The silence went on and on, almost deafening, and Ash didn’t say another word. Finally, Max sighed, then looked up at the ceiling. “I’m really sick.”

“Like, everything sucks, it’s going to be shit, but you’ll get better sick, or dying sick.”

“Dying.” The word was like stone falling from his mouth, and he didn’t feel any better for getting it off his chest.

Ash gave a little laugh, then sank his head into his knees. “Fuck you,” he said. He kept laughing, but it started blurring until Max was pretty sure he was crying. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you–”

“Ash–”

“Don’t.” He pulled his knees even closer, but he didn’t get off the bed. He took a few deep breaths in, then mumbled into his knees, “you told my mom, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“She’s been pissed off about you ever since I kissed you in the driveway all those weeks ago.”

Max thought about that for a second. “She...said that to you?”

He heaved another sigh. “No. I can just tell. And she already didn’t like you.”

“Oh.” He knew that already, but hearing it confirmed by Ash didn’t really feel all that great.

“She’s hated you since Griff. She didn’t say it. But I knew. I always figured you guys got in some huge fight about it and that’s why you disappeared.”

“It didn’t exactly happen like that–” Max started, then he cleared his throat. “It wasn’t a huge fight so much as...passive aggressive avoidance.”

“On her side or yours?” Ash asked. His voice was still muffled by his knees, but he wasn’t drawing in those awful, shuddery breaths that made it sound like he was fighting back tears.

“Both I guess. I felt guilt. She felt rage. I don’t think either of us was right.”

“Yeah. Life’s fucked up I guess.”

“Fucked up,” Max agreed.

Ash finally sat back up and ran fingers through his hair. Now that he was this close, Max could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot, and he had a bruise against his temple that looked like he’d been hit with something.

“What happened?” Max asked.

“Fell.”

“What really happened?”

“What are you dying from?”

They stared at each other, long past when the sound of questions dissipated into nothingness. Max sighed. “Truth for a truth?”

Ash gave a little, hopeless laugh. “Deal. But you first.”

“Alright.” Max considered where to start, thoughts thick like honey from the painkillers. “It’s pancreatic cancer,” he finally said, blunt and to the point.

Ash stared. “But you’re...like...23.”

“Yeah. I think cancer’s pretty indiscriminate though.”

“How long did they give you?”

“Ah ah.” Max smiled as the green in Ash’s eyes flared dark with irritation. “You next. What really happened.”

“When?” Ash asked with a scowl now on his face. “When Griff died? When my dad left? Two nights ago?”

“Let’s just start with two nights ago.”

Ash brought a finger to his mouth and started tearing at the cuticle with his teeth. Max reached over and tried to tap his hand away, but Ash just pulled back and kept chewing. “I got really fucked up,” he said, but his eyes flickered down just long enough that Max knew there was more.

“Where? What happened after you took off from here?”

“That’s a really long story, and I think you owe me a whole lot more than just ‘it’s pancreatic cancer’ for it.”

“Ash…”

“Fine.” He wrapped his arms back around his legs, but this time, propped his chin on his knees instead of burying his face. “I got a text from Arthur.”

“Who’s Arthur?”

“Do you want me to tell the story or not!” Ash snapped. “Arthur’s just a dick from school. He wanted me to go hang out at this place everyone goes to party–”

“The Hole?”

“Right. You probably were friends with half the asshats there.”

“Maybe,” Max conceded. “But go on. I’ll stop interrupting.”

Ash’s face flickered in thought for just a minute, and then his eyes settled on the far wall, not looking anywhere near Max. “I went because I was pissed off, and I was already high, and I make shitty decisions when I’m high. And then I got really drunk, and more high, and Arthur fed me some weird ass Roxy that was laced with something else, and then I forgot everything.”

“Ash, that’s awful–”

“Nope. Your turn. My story’s done. How long did they give you?” He said it with all the emotion of a wet mop, and he was still staring at the wall, eyes glazed over.

“Two months. Give or take.”

“Fuck.” He kept staring, barely moving, barely breathing. Then he whispered, so quiet Max almost didn’t hear. “From when?”

“Uh...I mean, I guess they gave me a couple years back when I was originally diagnosed. At this point, it’s really advanced. I have no idea how much longer I really have, some people last longer than others. But two months from a couple weeks ago is when that initial estimate ends.” He shrugged, wishing he had a Coke or something way stronger nearby so he could disguise his nervousness by drinking.

Ash didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He waited, but Ash stayed quiet. “I didn’t mean to...whatever this is...was...I don’t know. Fuck. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Little late for that.” Ash finally moved, tilting his head just enough that Max could finally see his full face again and not just the profile. “I hate you. I don’t want to, but I do.”

“I’m sorry,”

“I still hate you. Your turn.”

“Do you like Led Zeppelin or do you just wear that shirt because it was his?”

Ash’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” “Just wanted to know.”

“Of all the questions in the world, that’s what you settled on? Are you high?”

“A little.”

The shadow of a grin curved from Ash’s lips. “You are. Good–makes two of us. Okay druggie. I could care less about Led Zeppelin, but I miss Griff.”

“You’re missing out.” “On the music or on my dead brother.”

“Music. Griff too. But it’s good music.”

“Whatever. Are you upset that I…” he stumbled for a second, then looked back down, all hint of smile gone. “What you said the other day…”

“I didn’t mean it,” Max cut in, before Ash could say another word. “I was really stupid. And I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay.” Ash’s hands clenched tight for a second, then released again as he looked up into Max’s eyes. His pupils were still blown, but he looked softer–no longer like something Max might cut himself on. “I hate you but I still want to kiss you,” Ash said, blinking once, but not looking away.

Swallowing was hard again, but this time it was because of warm, bubbling relief. “Did you uh...hear all the other stuff I said? Like–” “Yeah, you’re dying. You’ve got two months to live. Whatever. I still want to kiss you. I mean...only if you want. He blinked again, and then a tumble of blond hair fell across his face, hiding his expression.

The heaviness of the painkillers was becoming impossible to resist, every time Max blinked it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He still managed to smile. “I never wanted to stop.”

Ash moved–legs unfolding, body turning to face Max, arms tucked in tight between them. “I’m sleeping here tonight,” he mumbled, then his eyes closed.

The lights were still on. Max could hear the less than comforting trilling sounds that Kat made when she was back to hunting coming from the garage. Ash was warm next to him, and Max was barely awake, but he managed to lean over and pull the blanket over them both before falling asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Max woke up first the next morning. He tried to move, but somehow over the course of the night, Ash had become so entangled in the sheets that he was trapped. He gazed longly towards the coffee pot–the meds made him so foggy in the morning sometimes it was hard to even think straight until he’d had a cup–but then Ash gave a heavy sigh, and rolled over, just enough to free Max from the sheets.

He got up slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements, and then his phone started to buzz. Max winced, but it didn’t matter much–Ash was out so hard he didn’t even move. Snagging his phone from the table, Max thumbed it to silent and moved quietly into the kitchen before looking.

Jennifer.

He didn’t answer; just waited for it to go to voicemail before sending her a quick text.

__He’s here. He’s fine._ _

Max considered this, before adding:

__He’s asleep,sorry for not answering._ _

He didn’t elaborate any more than that. While he understood that Jennifer was worried, he didn’t particularly feel like he owed her any other explanation, and he figured that if Ash wanted to, he’d settle it later.

His phone buzzed once.

__thank you_ _

There were no emojis, no punctuation–nothing but those two words all in lowercase–but somehow it seemed warmer than any other exchange they’d had in the last week.

Max set his phone down, then started trying to get the coffee maker going with as little sound as possible. He was just turning around when he noticed that Ash had rolled over and was watching him.

“Oh!” Max said in surprise. “Hey! Wasn’t trying to wake you.”

“It’s okay.”

Ash’s hair was tangled and sticking out in every direction, his eyes still looked red and tired, the bruise at his temple was just as dark as it was last night, but he was _ _here__. Max wanted to run across the room and kiss him until they were both left breathless.

He didn’t. “Want some coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Max thought Ash seemed lucid enough last night to remember the conversation come morning, but right now he looked more confused than anything. Max suddenly had a horrible feeling that he was going to have to go back to square one with sober Ash, and that sober Ash might not be as forgiving. “Uh...last night…” Max started, grabbing a second mug from the cabinet and waiting for the coffee to start splashing down into the pot. “Do you remember–” “Seriously, Max? I was high. Not dead.”

He gave a little smile, and Max finally let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Okay that makes things easier. Oh! Call your mom.”

Ash looked up at him, eyes wide. “ _ _Seriously?__ ”

“She called me four times last night and texted this morning. Yeah. Tell her you aren’t dead.”

“Can I brush my teeth first?”

“Be my guest.”

Grumbling, Ash finally untangled himself, then rolled out of bed. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.”

He mumbled all the way to the bathroom, and Max couldn’t help but smile.

***

Max cleaned up the living area while Ash showered, then spent a good while pondering over what sort of Jennifer-based damage control he should be responsible for. Ash would call her. That should be good enough, but if he drove Ash back home and Jennifer happened to be waiting for them, he knew he’d possibly be walking into some sort of blow up fight about the entire situation. He hoped that she’d back off on the ‘you’re a terrible person and should be nowhere near my son’ rhetoric after this particular fiasco, but based on past experience, Jennifer was spectacular at holding onto grudges.

He was still thinking about it when Ash came out again–hair wet against the back of his neck, and nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Can I borrow clothes? Mine are gross.”

“They were clean enough for you to sleep in my bed last night…”

Ash’s eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You know where shit is.”

Ash nodded, then padded down the hall.

“You want breakfast?” Max called after him.

“Yup.”

It constantly amazed Max, how easily Ash just settled into whatever situation he was in. They’d spent a night exchanging life or death secrets, and he still just rolled out of bed and acted like he could care less. It was better that way, Max figured. They both had their own shit going on, but as long as they were together, nothing really seemed all that bad.

He opened the fridge and winced. It had been at least two weeks since he’d actually been to the grocery store. He’d been living on ramen, cans of tuna, cans of refried beans, and the occasional box of pasta with a jar of sauce. Currently, the only things sitting in the fridge were a quart of milk that had expired two days ago, a takeout container that housed the last of a meal Max had eaten a week ago, and a bag of bagels that had sat there long enough they were probably also questionable.

He grabbed the bagels and stuck a few on a plate. Microwaving ought to bring them back to life just enough to be tolerable. “Uh...bagel okay?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know any words other than yup?”

“Yup.”

Ash wandered back down the hall in one of Max’s black t-shirts and a pair of athletic shorts. He was swimming in both, and Max couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“What,” Ash deadpanned, eyes narrowing.

“You look like a little lost kitten, cute mussed up hair and all.”

Ash’s nose started to wrinkle, then he flipped Max off and walked over to the kitchen counter. “Coffee?”

“Here you are, m’lady” Max said, giving an overexaggerated bow. He nudged one of the mugs towards Ash, then the microwave beeped and he passed over a bagel as well.

“Microwaved bagels…” Ash said, studying the thing like it was about to sprout legs.

“Play your cards right, and I might treat you to microwaved bagels with spaghetti sauce one of these days.”

Ash’s eyes snapped up. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“What!” Max grinned. “Basically like a pizza!”

“That is the worst pizza ever,” Ash said, then he took a bite of bagel. “And if this is how you cook, I’m not sure you’re worth sticking around for.”

“I’m sure you’re so much better.”

“I can at least make a pizza.”

“Oh really?”

“I can at least buy a pizza and heat it up in the oven,” Ash amended. “Instead of whatever knock-off shit you’re trying to pull.” He continued chewing at his bagel, and Max continued watching him, and everything seemed so perfectly routine that he couldn’t help but smile. “So what’s the plan for the day?” Ash asked, swallowing with a grimace. “God, this is awful.”

Max burst out laughing. “I’m sorry! I was not exactly prepared for company, those have got to be like 3 weeks old.”

“Oh my god you suck so much.” Ash carefully picked up the rest of the bagel, and then primly deposited it in the garbage can. “You owe me breakfast.” He looked over and nodded towards the front hall. “Aren’t we supposed to be open?”

Max grabbed his coffee and nodded. “Yeah, technically. I don’t have anything booked though. I actually have to drive out to Grand Forks…” he stopped, the kernel of an idea sprouting. “You...have plans today?”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Uh. Yeah. Working for you.”

“Right.” Max had been so taken aback by Jennifer’s weekend visit that he hadn’t thought to tell Ash he wouldn’t be needed on Wednesday, and then Ash disappeared and he didn’t have a change anyway. And now it was Wednesday and…

“I have an appointment in Grand Forks,” Max said. “Cancer one. You wanna come?”

“To your __cancer__ appointment?”

Now Ash was staring at him with a mix of incredulity and dismay, and Max started silently berating himself for thinking it was a good idea.

“Uh, yeah? I don’t mean like, you have to come in or anything. It only takes 30 minutes. An hour at tops. I’ve declined all hospital care, or procedures, or whatever so they just check up every now and again to make sure meds are okay. Or that I haven’t died.” He laughed uncomfortably, as Ash’s expression didn’t change.

“Not funny.”

“Okay, I know, too soon. But if you want, you could come along. I always hit the McDonalds on the way back home. They make a mean milkshake…” he knew how ridiculous he sounded, but now he couldn’t stop himself. “There’s a river–”

“Yeah, kind of a big one. You know...dividing North Dakota from Minnesota and all,” Ash deadpanned.

“Look, I know how shitty classes are at that highschool you just graduated from.”

“I know what the fucking Red River is, Max.”

The conversation was veering drastically off course, but Max still found himself smiling. “So you want to come or not?”

“Sure,” Ash said, carding a hand through his hair and sipping at his coffee like this particular request was no different than any other run of the mill request.

“Seriously?”

“Eh. Got nothing better to do.”

He tilted his head to the side, and suddenly Max couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward, grabbed Ash, and kissed him. “Thank you,” he murmured, against Ash’s lips.

Ash smiled. “Any time, old man.”

The drive to Grand Forks was filled with a whole lot of nothing. Ash had thought Devil’s Lake was boring, but once they got outside of town, the landscape just got flatter, and flatter–browner, and browner. There was a whole lot of tumbleweed, and a whole lot of sunshine, and every now and again they’d pass a giant field of wheat.

Still, Ash had to keep himself from looking like a complete idiot and gawking out the window. He hadn’t mentioned it to Max, but this was his first trip out of Devil’s Lake. The furthest he’d ever gotten prior to this trip was about thirty minutes in the opposite direction when he’d turned fourteen and gotten this fantastically shitty idea to run away from home and hitchhike to New York. He remembered packing a bag, smoking a joint, and then walking the seven miles up to the truckstop and trying to hitch a ride.

Someone picked him up right away–an old guy with a bright smile, big paunch, and a cap that read Coal Headwear Recreation Division. (Ash wasn’t sure why he remembered that detail so clearly, only that even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see it in his mind.)They made it about 20 miles out of town before the guy reached over, wrapped a hand around Ash’s neck, and forced him down–demanding payment up front.

Ash said no.

The backhand that followed wasn’t necessarily unexpected, but it hurt like a bitch, Ash’s nose immediately started pouring blood, and the guy kicked him out none too graciously.

Ash grabbed for the Coke in the drink holder and twisted the top off, trying to swallow down just enough carbonation to ward off bad memories. “You said you do this trip a lot?” he asked.

Max looked over at him and gave a little smile. “Not like...a lot a lot. Every month or so now. At first it was more often.”

“Seems shitty of them to make you drive an hour when you could kick it any minute.”

Max barked a laugh at that. “Yeah, well. They don’t really want me doing it. They’ve pushed for a lot of things but I just keep refusing. I don’t have to make the trip. They’ve got hospice nurses or whatever that’ll come visit me and do it there. I just…” his mouth settled into a firm line, and the knuckles of his fingers went white for a moment as he gripped the steering wheel. Then he relaxed again, so quickly Ash could have sworn he almost imagined it.

“Independence?” Ash asked.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

The two lane highway out of Devil’s Lake suddenly turned to four, and Ash was left completely speechless at how many cars were coming and going. There was an overpass up ahead, and beyond it, he could see just a bit of a sprawling city, buildings and towers, and… “Holy shit,” he murmured.

“You never been to the city before?” Max asked, all casual, and cool, and fuck. He was wearing actual dark blue jeans, and an actual tight black t-shirt, and Ash didn’t think he could get any better looking than ‘auto-mechanic grunge’ but here he fucking was. Looking over at Ash. Realizing that Ash was so damn small-town that he didn’t know what a real city looked like. “Uh…” Ash said, cursing internally at not keeping his cool. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Where?” Max pressed.

Ash felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to kick him. “Oh, uh–”

“I’d never left Devil’s Lake until I had to start visiting the Cancer Center out here,” Max said, and just like that, he was forgiven.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I want to leave Devil’s Lake, I just–”

“It’s really hard to get out.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell, and there was nothing but the sound of cars racing by for a long time. The city loomed bigger and bigger, and then Max was getting off an exit ramp, his old truck rumbling and clanking along, and then they turned down a fancy street of row houses that looked nicer than anything Ash had ever seen, and then they turned down another street that was full of trees, with a little playground set in the back. There were a few different families there, kids shrieking with glee. The swings were not rusted, the slide was not rusted, people were happy.

Ash brought a finger to his mouth and started gnawing, trying to ignore the gross sort of jealousy that was welling inside of him.

“Cut it out,” Max said, reaching over and smacking his hand away.

“No.” Ash leaned further against the passenger door, and kept chewing.

They turned down a third street and all the sudden they were in the middle of town, restaurants bustling with outdoor tables, street lights everywhere. There were hospital signs too–pointing the way to different parking garages–so much information on a simple road sign. Max followed one of them, pausing to pull a ticket from a machine, and then looping up into the garage level after level until finally they found a spot on the fourth floor.

“Ready, kiddo?” Max joked, putting a hand on Ash’s knee.

“Yes, _ _Dad__.” He wasn’t though. Not for this. As much as he’d joked in the last 18 hours, he’d tried as hard as he could not to let the truth sink to the bottom of his stomach, hard as cement. He kept chewing around the nail of his pointer finger.

“Ash?”

Ash winced. “Maybe...you should just go in? I can wait for you here. I mean...I look like…” Ash spread his arms, trying to convey how ridiculous he looked here in the city.

“You look perfect.” “ _ _Max__.”

“You look perfect.”

He was looking at Ash so earnestly that Ash couldn’t help but smile. “Despite the fact that I actually had time to wash and dry my clothes and I didn’t have to show up here wearing your old shorts and shirt, I do still look like shit. And I appreciate your attempt at graciousness or whatever but…”

“Ash, you look fine–”

“Seriously, I’ll just wait in the car.”

Max tried to smile, but it failed, and he looked like a wounded puppy dog, and Ash suddenly felt so intensely bad that he couldn’t see straight but he just...he just…

“I can’t,” he murmured, trying to match Max’s stare, but still dropping his eyes first. “We’ll walk the park later? You still owe me McDonalds.”

“You sure?”

Ash looked back up. He could still see hopefulness in Max’s eyes, but he also knew that more than anyone, Max would understand. “Yeah. I’m sure. I’ll be fine out here!”

Max leaned forward just a little, and Ash leaned forward just a little, and their lips met.

“I’ll only be thirty minutes,” Max said.

“I’ll be here!” Ash replied.

Then Max left.

There was no AC in the car, there was no radio in the car, there was nothing for Ash to do but recline back and think about where they were.

The Cancer Center of North Dakota.

Ash closed his eyes tight and tried to breathe in deep, let it out slow, just like every damn book he’d ever read.

It was going to be alright. He’d had exactly ten minutes in Max’s bathroom that morning to pull up pancreatic cancer on his phone and look at statistics. He’d gone in knowing that it was one of the worst cancers there was, and he came out ten minutes later knowing that it was one of the fastest killing cancers, one of the most non discriminate cancers, and one of the most painful cancers to die from. He knew that the pain attacked the lower spine. He knew that Max would be in so much pain at the end, he wouldn’t be able to have a single coherent thought.

And he knew that if Max’s doctors gave him only a few months to live, then Max’s doctors were right, and Max was going to die.

His fists tightened at his sides, and Ash tried to take another deep breath but his chest felt too tight, and his throat wasn’t swallowing the right way, and there were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered, clenching his teeth as hard as he could.

Max was going to die.

__You shouldn’t care so much,__ some tiny voice in his head whispered. __Golzine’s had more of you than Max has__.

Ash sniffed, then turned his head towards the open window. There was a blue minivan parked next to the truck, and a mom and her three kids came around the side of it. The door started opening as she clicked her keys, and two of the kids climbed in, fighting and squabbling over something to do with __My Little Pony__. Ash definitely heard ‘ _ _Twilight Sparkle’__ mentioned more than a few times.

The mom went around the other side of the van, and Ash could see her through the side, buckling in the smallest of the three. Once everyone was safely in, she clicked the doors closed again, walked back around to his side, got in the car, then backed out and drove off down the garage lane.

She never even noticed he was watching, though that was forgivable to Ash, given the chaos she seemed to be dealing with.

His mom never owned a minivan.

They’d had the rusting Cadillac for as long as he’d been alive. The red seats were torn, stuffing was constantly duct taped back in. There was duct tape holding the wires together on the inside, duct tape holding the glove box in place. His dad, (or lack thereof) seemed to have a fascination with the stuff, and always swore it would do better than an actual mechanic.

Once, Ash had asked his dad how to change the oil. He’d been reading a book like he was always reading a book and it happened to be about cars, and it just hit him that this seemed like a good thing to know. His dad was the sort who had to be right about __everything__ and Ash thought that it might gain him favor, that it might make Jim Callenreese happy to share knowledge with his youngest..

His dad had stared at him, then accused him of trying to sound smart. After that, he walked over and smacked Ash across the face.

Griff hadn’t been there.

Jennifer was.

Later, when Ash had a baseball sized bruise on his cheekbone, she’d carefully held a bag of frozen peas against it, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again in his ear.

Later, when his dad left, Griff showed him how. Griff had bent over the Cadillac, eyes focused, fingers pulling out the dipstick. He’d carefully explained how to check the oil level. Then he’d thrust it back in, wiped his fingers, and sat down, laying back under the car. He’d shown Ash the oil drain (on the back, left side of the engine block). Then he’d showed Ash the filtration system (on top of the engine, in front of the oil cap.) He’d gone through every step, smiling as Ash’s small fingers followed his own.

He’d been 14 then. In a year, he’d be dead.

A shiny, black Lexus pulled into the space minivan woman had left, and Ash watched as a tall, blond man in a business suit got out. He expertly closed the door and locked it with a push of a button, and Ash watched in the rearview mirror as he walked with an enormous amount of purpose towards the elevator.

The truck was warm, but not too warm, and Ash leaned back and closed his eyes.

__“It’s pancreatic cancer.”_ _

Ash had almost laughed until he’d realized that Max was dead serious.

__“It’s pancreatic cancer.”_ _

__“It’s pancreatic cancer.”_ _

__“It’s pancreatic cancer.”_ _

“Fuck!” Ash yelled, smacking his hand against the arm rest as hard as he could. There was no reply, just the buzzing sound of the lights in a dismal grey parking garage, full of empty cars.

He pulled out his phone.

It had been exactly 11 minutes since Max left. He stopped short of swearing again, then opened it, scrolling through his contacts.

There weren’t many. His mom was at the top, followed by Max. They were the only two favorites he had saved. Arthur was in there. So was Alex–the dude from physics. They’d had to do a couple of projects together outside of school last year, and Ash had made certain that he always initiated the phone calls, and that he always pushed to do them at either the public library, or Alex’s house.

Everyone knew he was trailer trash, but that didn’t mean he wanted them all up in his space.

Besides. Alex’s house always smelled like cookies, and his mom dressed in blue jeans and blouses, and served them lemonade, and didn’t dye her hair, and didn’t look exhausted, and didn’t regret having two sons instead of just one…” “Fuck,” Ash murmured again, then he tapped on his mom’s number.

It rang five times, then cut to voicemail.

She was working, and he knew that, but for some reason he just really wanted to hear her voice. The beep sounded, loud in his ear. He almost hung up, but decided against it at the last second.

“Hey, mom,” he said, leaning an arm against the open window. “I know I suck, and I know you were worried, so...sorry. I’m good. Everything is fine.” He thought for a second, letting the silence of the open phone call hiss in his ear. “Max has cancer,” he finally said. “I know you know. He told me. I know you don’t like him. He told me. I also know you have shitty taste in men also so…yeah. Back off, cool?” He paused for one more second. “I love you.”

Then he ended the call.

It had been exactly 14 minutes since Max left.

Lexus guy didn’t come back.

Some woman in pinstripe pants and a bright purple button down that was two sizes too small came out of the stairwell, but she walked down the other row.

Ash’s fingers were tapping at the window frame, and his knee was bouncing, and he couldn't’ stop thinking and– “god damnit, Max,” he muttered, then he opened the door and crawled out of the truck. Ash spared a single moment to consider that Max had taken the keys, and he had no way of locking the thing, but finally he just shrugged, figuring that it was such a beat up piece of shit with nothing worth stealing that it didn’t much matter.

The stairwell the lady had come out of was labeled 4A in big green letters. Ash let himself through the door, then headed down the steps. The cinder block had been painted with giant bugs. The first floor had ants. The second had ladybugs. The first had bees. And then he was out on the street, dry, hot North Dakota wind blowing at his hair. There were people walking up and down the sidewalk–some dressed for business, others looked like college students. The buildings across the street from him were all multiple stories, and as he looked up and down the sidewalk he was standing on, he realized he had no idea what direction to go.

Devil’s Lake had one main drag through town. There was a Walgreens, an Applebees, a mall that was basically defunct and mostly abandoned, a Target, and a Walmart. If you kept going, there was paintball place that had built out the back of a laser tag place. Ash had never gone.

Grand Forks was so much bigger with buildings that crowded around one after another after another.

It was hard to breathe.

Ash turned left and started walking but only made it a block before stopping and looking around again. There was a couple up ahead–the guy had his arm slung around a girl's waist, and as they passed Ash, he called out, “Hey!”

The guy slowed. “Yup?”

“You know where the Cancer Center is?”

“Oh. Yeah–it’s that way.”

The guy pointed in exactly the opposite direction that Ash had been traveling.

Ash looked, but he still didn’t see anything that looked like a hospital. “Uh...street? Or something?”

“Uh...is it…”

“44th,” the girl piped up. “That’s Washington right there.” She pointed up a block, and Ash could see the green Washington sign hanging from the light. “Just go left there and you’ll see it.”

“Thanks,” Ash said.

“Yup.” They kept walking, and the girl gave Ash a little smile as he turned and followed in their direction.

As soon as he turned down Washington, he saw the hospital–huge, and looming over everything else. There was a revolving main door that led into the main building, but there was also a big purple Cancer Center of North Dakota sign on a smaller, adjacent building. Ash waited until the cars cleared, then jogged across the street and over to the door.

Inside, a receptionist looked up from the desk. “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked in a bored voice.

“Oh, uh…” There was a map of the layout on the wall across from her desk, but with her staring at him, Ash suddenly felt extremely self-conscious going over to figure it out by himself. “I’m waiting for a friend.”

“Medical oncology is on floor 2. Radiation oncology on 3. Diagnostics and screening is 4.”

None of those sounded right, but Ash didn’t want to bug her further. “I’ll just wait down here?” He flinched internally at the question in his voice. He was dwarfed by the buildings, by the people, by Grand Forks, and it made him feel like a child.

“Medical review and follow-up appointments are all on the East wing of this floor,” she said, still apparently reciting the layout to him.

“Thank you,” Ash said, backing away.

She kept staring.

There was a little lobby to the right of the elevators, with a coffee stand and a gift shop. Ash made his way over and sat at one of the tables. He’d buy a coffee, except he didn’t have any money, and he was feeling more and more like getting out of the car was a terrible idea. Coming into the building was a terrible idea. Coming on this entire trip was a terrible idea. He was just starting to get himself worked up again, when Max appeared out of nowhere and sat across from him.

“Car get too hot?” he asked, a casual smile on his face.

“Too boring.” Ash tried to play it cool, but internally he was so fucking glad Max was back because he wasn’t sure how much more anxiety of the unknown that he could take.

“Yup. it does that.”

Max seemed in no hurry to leave, but Max was also the type to just sit and wait for Ash to make the decision. “Alright, old man,” Ash said, standing up. “You owe me a walk, and some lunch.”

Laughing, Max followed him towards the door. “Which one first?”

“Don’t care, just want to get out of this building!”

They walked first.

There was a little park, just a mile from the hospital, that overlooked the river and had a bike trail that looped up over the water, then back again. The sky was blue, there were birds flying overhead, and there was so much green.

Ash hadn’t ever given thought to the color of Devil’s Lake, but despite there being a body of water, the town was mostly brown and the rust red of the clay dirt it sat upon. There were tumbleweed, and pine trees that were so stripped bare from the winter wind they leaned to one side. On the richer side of town, houses had yards, but even these tended to go brown in the summertime.

Here in the city? There was bright green manicured grass everywhere, and trees that weren’t coniferous. The bike path was carefully maintained, with drinking fountains every quarter mile, and benches even more frequently. Everything about the city screamed alive, alive, alive, and Ash suddenly realized how dead Devil’s Lake really was.

“Ready to move here?” Max said, reading Ash’s thoughts.

Ash gave a little laugh, remembering how uncomfortable he’d been under the gaze of the receptionist, and how little he’d felt. “Hardly.”

“Still have your sights set on New York? Hear it’s even bigger...”

Ash just shrugged.

Max grabbed his hand and pulled him up short. “Hey. Thanks for coming.”

He looked so earnest, and the sun hit just right against the water so that his blue eyes started to sparkle. Ash found himself rising up on the balls of his feet before he could stop himself and kissing Max so deeply he couldn’t breathe. When he finally pulled back, breathless and heart racing, Max had a smile on his face that just grew and grew and grew.

“What?” Ash asked, cheeks flaming hot.

“”Oh, nothing.”

“ _ _What?__ ”

Max just gave him a knowing smile, then pulled him back down the path.

They walked the length of the river path–all 6.4 miles of it. They talked, and laughed, and at one point, Max threaded his fingers through Ash’s and nothing about it was awkward. Despite being out in public, they fell into the sort of familiar rhythm they’d known back at the auto shop, and it felt so right that Ash could almost forget the horrible discussion they’d had last night, and the reason they were here in the first place.

Ash questioned Max on his life for the past five years, and Max questioned him on the same. Turned out that Max had inherited __Ryan’s Auto__ only a couple of months after Griff’s death–and the second he turned 18, he moved out of the trailer park and into the office of the place. His dad (like most dads at the park) had left when Max was eleven, and his mom was arrested three years back for turning tricks at the truck stop. Ash swallowed down a sick taste in his mouth at hearing this and realizing the similarity of their situations, but if Max made a connection between the two, he was decent enough not to let on.

Max had been more than happy to move out to the auto shop without telling much of anyone, and he’d been living there in quiet ever since.

“Does your mom know?” Ash asked. “About the cancer, I mean.”

Max shrugged. “Yeah. I talk to her about once a month on the phone. I’ve only visited a handful of times. I told her when I got the diagnosis though.”

“She upset?”

“Mostly that I was gonna go and die first and she wouldn’t have me to pay the bills anymore.” Max laughed, but it sounded a little too harsh to be real. “Only thing she ever wants to talk about is whether or not I paid off the trailer.”

There wasn’t much Ash could say to that. They both had enough shitty life experiences to add up to three lifetimes, but at least at the end of the day, Ash had a mom who loved him enough to worry.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do, now that schools done?”

It was a sudden topic change, but Ash found he didn’t mind. “Eh. Not many places are hiring, so I’ll just play it by ear.”

“You know, if you wanted to keep working on cars–”

“No.” He knew where Max was going with this line of thought, and he wanted no part in it.

“Just hear me out, Ash! You’re already helping down at the shop. You already know more about cars than I did when I started. And it’s not like I have any other family…”

“Nope. No thanks–I don’t want any part in your guilt payoff, so shut up.” Ash gave Max a little shove, just hard enough to throw him off balance, and Max threw up his hands in disgust.

“Fine! Don’t say I never offered you anything.”

“Oh, you offered me things. Like lunch. When are you paying up?” They were just turning the last curve of the trail, and Ash could see the parking garage from across the street.

“Hmmm...could be I bring you to the finest dining establishment this side of the Mississipi–the one with the big golden arch that sits just outside of town. Or could be I just leave you at a reststop and keep on driving home…”

Ash shoved him harder this time, Max laughed, and that flicker of warmth inside his belly got even bigger.

***

True to Max’s word, they stopped at the McDonalds just outside of Grand Forks. They ordered food, sat in a booth, their knees brushing against each other under the table, enough to drive Ash crazy.

He met Max’s eyes, and they were so intense that even as Ash’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he found it impossible to look away.

Eventually, Max nudged Ash’s tray. “You gonna eat?”

Laughing, Ash grabbed a single fry. “Sorry. Distracted.”

“By my intensely dashing looks?”

“By the fact that you dip your french fries in milkshake. You are truly disgusting.”

Max gave a pained little frown. “Spoken like someone who’s never tried it.”

“Disgusting,” Ash said again, but now he was having a hard time not grinning. “Besides. You’re the one who tried to convince me just this morning that canned spaghetti sauce on a bagel constituted a decent pizza. You. Are. Disgusting.”

Max dipped another fry, then leaned across the table. “Open.”

Jerking back with a laugh, Ash covered his mouth with his hands. “No!”

“Open. Don’t make me come over there and force feed you!”

“No!”

“Aslan Jade Callenreese!”

“Oh, you _ _so__ did not just use that–”

“Aslan Jade Callenreese!” Max called again, this time with a higher pitched voice, as he fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously.

Ash let him have his moment, glaring all the while, until Max finally burst out laughing and then ate the milkshake covered fry himself. “I swear, I heard your mom yell that so many times when you were a kid–”

“Nice.”

“What? It’s adorable. She would get so mad at Griff and me but wouldn’t say a damn thing, but when it came to you, the second you moved wrong she’d yell your name.”

“I remember. I was there.”

“Aslan…” Max said.

Ash very purposely took a giant bite of his cheeseburger and didn’t answer.

“Aslan…” he whispered again. “Aslan…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just give me the goddamn fry!” Ash burst out.

Max’s grin grew, and he dipped another fry, handing it over to Ash.

The worst part about it was it __did__ taste good, and then Ash had to _ _tell__ Max that, and then Max had to go and gloat about it, and they argued the entire way out of McDonalds and into the car, and even so far as the next rest stop where Max once again threatened to leave Ash.

It was the sort of arguing that that was born of perfect friendship.

It was the sort of arguing that made Ash want to kiss Max again, and again, and again.

They made it back to town by four, and Max offered to drop him off back home, with an unvoiced request that Ash not leave.

Ash didn’t leave.

They opened the garage, and pulled the cover off the Chevelle, and Ash sandblasted doors while Max worked the electrical. The sun went down, and they kept working, the night sky darkened, and they kept working, the stars came out, and all around them, cicadas began to buzz.


	13. Chapter 13

Ash paid the rent the next Thursday. His mom had remained good to her word and all the money in the jar had remained untouched the entire month. She’d been picking up even more extra shifts at the diner, and Max had been paying Ash under the table, and after a straight month of them both working, for the first time in Ash’s memory, they had a surplus.

After handing the envelope over to Mr. Crosby–the greasy looking thug who owned the park–Ash paid the electricity, the internet, and the water bill. He went out and bought a couple more phone cards, then paid on the prepaid plan for the next two months. Even after all of that, they still had a little extra cash, and so when his mom proposed that they go out for dinner, he was all too happy to agree.

It wasn’t until she was on her way out to work, the morning of their dinner date–that she asked him to invite Max.

“You serious?” Ash asked, trying to gauge her actual feelings on the matter. Once again, they were both in the bathroom, both fighting for space, both trying to get to their respective jobs.

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious,” she mumbled, lips clenched tight around a bobby pin.

“Didn’t think you liked him.”

“I don’t. But you do, so throw me a bone here.”

Ash shrugged. “Okay. I’ll invite him.”

“Don’t play all ‘I’m too cool for this conversation’ with me Aslan Jade,” she chided, and Ash winced, remembering Max’s teasing from the other day.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled, then pushed past her. “Meet at the restaurant, or meet here first?” he called, heading into the kitchen to grab a Poptart.

“Uh...here. Meet here.”

“Cool, I’ll be here by 5.” He threw the wrapper in the trash, stuck one in his mouth and one in his hand, then grabbed his backpack. “See you then!” Ash called, then headed out the front door.

The walk to Max’s was getting hotter and hotter as they moved into August, but Ash didn’t mind. There was something about the repetitive motion of putting one foot in front of the other that relaxed him in place of the drugs he was still craving. He still thought about getting high all the time. It had only been a week and a half since the bender that resulted in him losing an entire night’s worth of memories and a cellphone full of lewd texts from Arthur, but before that he’d stayed clean a little bit, and he felt better for it. He was more awake during the day, he had more energy. He woke up in the morning and actually wanted to get up, instead of just living for the next high. Ash owed a decent amount of this to Max, but he also gave himself some credit in that he was independent enough to kick the drugs not just for Max, but for himself.

He swallowed the rest of his Poptart, then pushed his headphones against his ears and was soon lost to the sounds of Led Zeppelin pummeling his eardrums.

Ash made it through all of III and was midway through IV when he got to the shop and let himself in. Max was already out in the garage and he waved as Ash came up the drive.

“Hey there, good lookin’” he called.

Ash just winced. “Fuck, you’ve got to work on your pickup lines.” He walked up and leaned against the Chevelle as Max stood up. “You sound like you’re 50.”

“I’m old enough I think there must be something wrong with my eyes. I can’t take ‘em off of you.”

“Oh my god,” Ash muttered, but before he could say anything else, Max grabbed him and kissed him hard.

He let go all of a sudden, and Ash stumbled back, wiping a hand across his mouth. “Okay, okay, okay you’re forgiven, Jesus!”

“I’d ask God to bless you, but looks like he already did–”

“Max!” Ash shouted.

Max just gave him the sort of rueful grin that made him look even younger than he already was. “You’re cute when you’re embarrased,” he said, leaning against the car and crossing his arms in a way that made him look way too cool, and made Ash feel way too fucking fluttery.

“I’m not embarrassed, you’re just ridiculous. I gotta go make coffee. And you gotta put that thing away because we have Mrs. Wong’s Buick coming in for a tune-up, and then you’ve got three oil changes.”

“Hold on.”

Ash paused, waiting, waiting, waiting...Max didn’t say anything, just stared at the ceiling. “What?” Ash finally asked.

“Oh!” Max exclaimed, giving a little jump and smiling bigger. “Your detailed list of things to do was just so thrilling I was waiting for an actual burst of enthusiasm to come straight from the sky!”

“Oh my god, you are so __weird__ ,” Ash said, rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling either. “Hey, so, my Mom wanted to invite you to dinner.”

That wiped the smile right off of Max’s face. “Why?” he asked, arms tightening ever so slightly against his chest.

Ash shrugged. “She’s trying.”

“She hates me.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s trying __not__ to.”

“That’s a convincing argument...”

“Come on. Please?” Ash looked up from under his long, blond eyelashes, in a way that he knew from exact experience other men couldn’t resist.

Incredibly, Max didn’t seem particularly swayed. “Put the doe eyes away, kiddo,” he said, grinning again.

“Okay, fine,” Ash pouted. “Come for me. I know you don’t see it, but I promise you she really is trying, and if it sucks, we’ll leave. Cool?”

Groaning, Max threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, fine. When?”

“Uh…” Ash almost attempted the same look again, but he’d failed at it once so he decided it wasn’t worth a second try. “Tonight. I’m meeting her at home around 5, then we’ll go.”

“Tonight! __Ash__!”

“Okay, seriously, I know you have nothing better to do. You can take a shower after the cars, and you can drive me all nice and gentlemanly like back home, and then we can all pile in her car and go to dinner and talk like regular adults. And then you can take me back here.” He stepped up to Max as he ended, pressing fingers against Max’s forearm and slowly trailing them up. “And then I can spend the night.”

He said it so nonchalantly, but his stomach was doing flips. Ash had never actually stayed over other than that once a week and a half ago when they did nothing but share awful secrets, but he wanted to, he wanted to be near Max as much as possible.

Max gulped, and his cheeks flushed red. “Yeah?” he said, his voice a little too hoarse to be entirely casual.

Ash nodded.

Swallowing hard, Max nodded once, then he blinked, shaking his head just a little bit and pulling back into normalcy. “Fine. Sold. Now go open the shop.”

“Yes, Dad!” Ash answered, saluting like an idiot.

His stomach was still doing flips, but this time it was excitement.

This time, it was something __new__.

He had five different customers to get through, but Max had so much trouble focusing, at one point he somehow managed to drop a lug wrench on top of his hand which resulted in so much cursing and jumping around that Ash actually came around the front side of the garage and told him he was scaring the customers waiting in the office.

Being diagnosed with cancer at age 20 meant that all the little anxieties of life suddenly seemed like nothing anymore. Max didn’t give two fucks about what anyone thought of him, and most days, that suited him just fine.

Apparently Jennifer Callenreese was the exception to that rule though, and now his stomach was twisting and turning in knots, all while he played a million different scenarios in his mind.

__“Hi, good to see you again–”_ _

__“Hi Max, by the way, I haven’t forgotten that I blame you for the death of my firstborn.”_ _

__“Hi, Jennifer–”_ _

__“Max, I thought you understood my feelings on the matter, but apparently you don’t, so get the fuck away from Ash.”_ _

__“Good to see you, Jennifer–”_ _

__“I can’t wait for you to die so Ash can forget about you.”_ _

Max winced. The last one was the sort of over-dramatics that he rarely indulged in, but he was still haunted by the idea that she was Ash’s mom, that Ash loved her, and that she was going to hate Max until he died.

He couldn’t decide how to act with Ash either at this dinner. Was he allowed to sit next to him? To hold his hand? To smile at him? Did he need to ignore Ash entirely so that Jennifer wouldn’t think there was something more than what there was?

“Max!”

Max pushed himself up from the engine of the car and froze at the sudden tightening in his back.

“Max?” Ash asked, this time with a note of concern.

“Give me a sec.” He started moving again, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, until he was finally upright with no further pain. Hopefully he’d lucked out of it, but sometimes the little spasms were just a warning sign for later. “Sorry, what’s up?”

Ash jumped the two steps from the hallway door to the cement of the garage. “Last appointment cancelled. Said they’d come back next Thursday.” “Oh, okay, cool.” He ducked back underneath the hood, and within moments, Ash was there next to him, ducking his head under as well and leaning in for a kiss.

“What was that for?” Max asked.

Shrugging, Ash looked down at the car. “So you rebuilt this?”

“Uh…”

“Not this engine specifically, I mean, the engine for the Chevelle–you rebuilt that?”

“Oh! Yeah, took me a while. Sourcing parts in general for that car has been a giant bitch, but the engine was the first thing I worked on. Gave me something to do besides feel sorry for myself.”

“Mmm.” Ash looked over at the Chevelle, covered back up with the blue shop blanket. “It’s close, yeah? Are you excited?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Ash looked back at Max, eyes so incredulous that Max couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. I can’t wait to drive it. But it also is like a calendar, you know? I’ve checked off two years and three months of work on that thing. And they gave me two years to live. So–” he looked over at Ash, “Sorry. I shouldn’t talk about it that way–”

Ash shrugged again. “Not bothering me. That’s a hell of a weight to bear–makes sense you aren’t all that excited. You think if I return the parts, you’ll get a few months back?”

He cracked a grin, and looked so completely unphased by the dire nature of Max’s comments that a giant upwelling of love surged inside of Max and he barely kept himself from letting it all leak out.

Everyone who found out he had cancer just fell all over themselves apologizing, and then trying to help him. He was so sick of being treated like he was dying, and yet Ash came along and just...didn’t care. It was nice. Refreshing.

“Thanks,” Max said, biting at his cheeks to try and stop grinning.

Didn’t keep Ash from noticing. “You smile at the weirdest things.”

“Yup.”

Ash leaned in and kissed him again, then pushed up from the car. “Cool. Finish faster–I’m hungry!”

“I thought you said dinner wasn’t till 5?”

“Yeah but…” Ash grabbed his phone. “It’s 3:23.”

“Your point?”

“That’s close enough that I’m already thinking about how good that steak is gonna taste…”

“Dream big there, kiddo,” Max said with a grin.

“Just finish!” Ash announced, then flew back up the steps and disappeared down the hall.

Max did–moving considerably quicker now that Ash had interrupted his anxiety spiral–and after he handed the keys back over to the kindly old Mrs. Wheeler who’d apparently heard the entirety of his lug-wrench-related shrieking and told him quite pertly to ‘“watch your language in the future, son, the Lord is watching,” he finally ran through the shower.

“What am I supposed to wear?” he called to Ash, padding down the hallway in wet feet, towel wrapped around his midsection.

“Try clothes.”

“Thanks ever so much.”

“I don’t know!” Ash came around the corner and leaned against the wall casing. “Not your nice, orange jumpsuit.”

“I mean suit, or jeans,” Max answered, rolling his eyes.

“I’m wearing this.” Ash gestured down, showing off his own blue jeans–ripped in more than a few places from age, not from fashion. Even though it was 95 degrees out, he was still wearing a black hoodie as well.

“I seriously don’t know how you don’t fall down dead of heatstroke,” Max said, pulling open the drawers and grabbing his jeans and a t-shirt with a faded Jimi Hendrix on the front.

“Years of practice,” Ash deadpanned.

“Years of something,” Max muttered. He ran back to the bathroom and changed quickly. When he came back out, Ash was on the couch, backpack splayed open, nose in a book.

“What are you reading?”

“Oh.” Ash dog eared a page, then put it back in his bag. “It’s terrible. It’s some awful John Grisham book from the 90s. My mom has a __collection__.

“You know, if you don’t like it, they make a thing called Amazon…”

“Yeah, they make a thing called money too, and I’ve got zilch.”

Max bit his lip. Ash tended to be sensitive about money. Even though Max didn’t have a ton, he had more than Ash did, and in Ash’s eyes, that made things uneven. “When’s your birthday?”

“Huh?”

“Your birthday! I can’t believe we haven’t had this conversation. I remember it was sometime in August, right? Griff used to make a big deal about it.”

“August 12th…” Ash was looking at him all guarded and unsure and it was adorable.

“Great. So...a week!”

“What of it?”

“You’ll be nineteen!”

“Yeah, everyone’s favorite age…”

“And I owe you a present. So, order some books.”

Ash shook his head, then zipped his backpack up and stood. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m good. Let’s go.”

“I’m buying you books...if you don’t tell me what you like, I’m just going to buy you 8 copies of Bridges of Madison County.”

Ash gave him a look of death. “We’re going to be late. And you don’t need to buy me books.”

“8 copies of Madison County it is!”

“Max!”

Max grinned, then grabbed the keys from the desk. There was the slightest pinching at his back, and he took a deep breath in, but nothing came of it.

He was fine.

They were fine.

This dinner would be fine.

“Ready?” Max asked, and held the front door open for Ash.

The inside of Ash’s trailer didn’t look much different than the last time Max had set foot inside–which was somewhere in the ballpark of 8 years ago.

The old sofa still sat against the living room wall–the orange and black plaid print was ripped in a few more places than Max remembered, but the wash of memory that overtook him was difficult to ignore. The sofa matched the brown shag carpets that had likely not been replaced since the 70s, and the place was steeped in the smell of cigarette smoke, and the cheap perfume that Jennifer used to wear, and apparently s _ _till__ wore.

“Hey, you coming?” Ash asked, already in the kitchen.

Max looked down and realized that though he thought his feet were moving, he was still very much standing in the entryway, trying to take everything in. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and forced himself forward, joining Ash in the kitchen. “I haven’t been here since…”

Ash looked up. “Oh. Yeah. Well…” his face wrinkled for just a moment while he thought. “I’d give you the grand tour but as you can see, not much has changed.” He grinned, then nudged Max just hard enough that Max ended up trapped against the hard angle of the countertop. “Come on,” he teased, pressing even closer so that their bodies were brushing against each other. “Kiss me…”

Max was just leaning down to do just that when the front door swung open and Jennifer stepped in.

“Hey, Mom!” Ash called, not moving a single muscle and keeping Max in place.

“Hey, Ash…” her friendly tone trailed off as she looked over at them.

With a fairly decent shove, Max managed to push Ash off of himself. He stepped forward, rubbing at the back of his neck and trying not to force himself not to blush and make everything look even more suspect. “Hi, Mrs. Callenreese–”

“Jennifer,” she interrupted.

“Uh...Jennifer?” Max tried, unsure of why she was suddenly dropping all formality and engaging with him on...almost friendly terms.

She shrugged. “Mrs. Callenreese sounds like a school teacher without a personality. No one calls me that.”

“I used to,” Max shot back. __Oh you fucking idiot__ , the smart side of his brain argued. __Don’t antagonize. Don’t antagonize. Don’t antagonize.__

Jennifer gave him a pointed glare, then sighed. “You’re just as bad as I remember,” She muttered, rolling her eyes. “I’m changing. Be ready in ten. No making out.”

“Unfair,” Ash whined.

“Fine, no making out in the kitchen, or the living room, or the bathroom, or my room–”

“Great, come on Max, you haven’t seen my room in a while, right?” Ash laughed and grabbed Max’s hand dragging him down the hall, leaving Max no choice but to flash a rueful grin in Jennifer’s direction and hope she’d forgive him.

Once the door closed behind them, Ash rose up on the balls of his feet and grabbed Max’s head, pulling him down and kissing him deeply. Max followed, chasing the taste of Ash’s lips and wrapping his arms around Ash’s waist, bringing him even closer. For a long minute, it felt like there was absolutely nothing else but the press of Ash’s body against his own, the sound of them both breathing, the softness of Ash’s lips against his own…

Then Max opened his eyes.

“Oh shit,” Max murmured, gently stepping back.

Ash let him go, then turned, leaning his back against the wall so he was standing next to Max. “Yeah. Sorry. Probably brings up memories.”

It did.

It really did.

The bedroom looked exactly the same, from the worn dresser sitting against the wall that still had the broken drawer from when Griff had lobbed a baseball so hard at Max it went straight through the dresser, to the bunk beds up against the far wall–bunk beds where Ash and Griff had slept.

“Shit,” he said again. “You...shit. Nothing’s changed.”

Shrugging, Ash walked over and sat on the bottom bunk, leaning forward just enough so that his head wouldn’t hit the top. “I took down the heavy metal posters?”

“I…” Max looked around the room again, noting that the only poster that remained was a Led Zeppelin one with one corner peeling away from the decade old sticky tack. “I guess?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it,” Ash mumbled, sounding surly as hell. “It’s not like I can go out and buy a new room.”

“Not what I meant,” Max said. He wandered over to the bed and folded himself in, next to Ash. “It must have been hard.”

“Everything is hard.”

“Yeah, but you’re literally sleeping every night underneath a bed your brother used to sleep in. I get that there aren’t other options. But it must have been hard.”

“You sure know how to kill a mood…”

Max grinned. “Sorry.”

“Naa. I forgive you.” Ash smiled too, and Max knew better than to push. It must have been horrible, and it must have sucked, but it was something Ash already dealt with. Something in his past. Not something in __their__ future.

“You remember that time that Griff and I locked you out of here? We were smoking weed, and we thought you’d tattle, so we locked the door. You pounded on it for so damn long, screaming at us because your backpack was in here and you wanted to do your homework. When you finally stopped, Griff and I just laughed and laughed and laughed...until–”

“I threw a rock through the window?” Ash pointed up, and Max could see the window in question–though it had long since been repaired.

“Yeah. Oh my god, we just kept laughing!”

“Yeah, and my mom almost killed me! Fuck, that thing cost $350 to repair, we didn’t have that!”

“And even after all that, you still couldn’t get through the window because there was glass everywhere, and so you just stood outside and yelled bloody murder until a whole bunch of people from the park just started gathering out there, looking down at me and Griff–stoned out of our minds and unable to stop laughing…”

“Real fun for me,” Ash griped, but he was still smiling.

“Shit, yeah,” Max laughed. “I’m sorry, we were assholes.”

“You were.” Ash brought a finger to his mouth and chewed, and Max didn’t even try to stop him. “You were assholes,” he finally said again. “But I still loved you.”

“Huh?” Now Max was completely turned around.

Ash’s eyebrows rose, and he gave a nervous little grin. “You were my first crush. Uh...what was I...like ten? I don’t know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m serious, come on it’s not that–”

“ _ _Seriously__?”

“Oh my god, not that big of a deal.”

“Kind of a big deal,” Max joked, grin spreading wider and wider.

“Just shut up,” Ash said, then he grabbed Max and kissed him again, so hard that Max could almost forget the room they were in, forget the ghost of Griffin Callenreese–

“Time to go!” Jennifer called, knocking at the door.

Ash pulled back. “Shut up about it,” he warned, then he tapped a finger against Max’s nose. “Or I’ll tell mom that the reason I threw the baseball was because you guys were smoking.”

“Oh what a threat,” Max joked. “Pretty sure she had all that figured out.”

“You never know,” Ash teased, then he pulled Max up, and they followed Jennifer out of the trailer and to her car.

Dinner went even better then Max could have expected. Jennifer was on her best behavior, and while she didn’t outright apologize, she was clearly making an attempt at amends.

Max had so many memories of Jennifer berating Ash, yelling at him, scolding him, being so much harder on him then she ever was with Griff. At the time, Max had thought it was because she didn’t like him as much.

Now, he realized it was because she loved him more.

Ash had made the choice easy for him, pulling Max in beside him before Max even had a chance to consider the seating options, and now Max sat across from Jennifer. Her hair was pinned up on top of her head, messy waves falling around her face. She’d changed into a pair of jean shorts and a bright red tank top that was just a little too tight to be anything but trailer trash. There were two big hoops dangling from her ears, and her nails were painted a bright shiny red that almost matched the bright lipstick she wore, but not quite. Jennifer looked tired, and older than her age, but when Ash talked, her eyes lit up, and Max could see all the love in the world there.

In the past six years, Jennifer had apparently eased up on the tough love, and watching her and Ash together now was dizzying. They treated each other as equals–not as mother and son, but close friends–the kind who knew absolutely everything about one another, good, bad, and horrible, yet still remained steadfastly loyal.

Even as they ordered food, the two of them joked and ribbed each other and laughed, laughed, laughed.

Max was perfectly content to sit on the sidelines and not participate, but as soon as the food came (as soon as he sunk his teeth into a giant bite of burger) Jennifer turned to him.

“So you like cars?”

Eyes widening, Max tried to hurry up and swallow the bite quick enough to answer without seeming rude, and instead choked, grabbed at his water, gulped down an enormous quantity, choked again, and overall made an ass of himself.

“All right there, Pops?” Ash asked, giving him a horribly self-satisfied smirk.

Fuck off didn’t seem an appropriate response at a restaurant, so Max settled for raising his eyebrows, and giving an egregious pinch to Ash’s thigh underneath the table.

Ignoring the small yelp, he turned back to Jennifer. “Yeah, I enjoy working on ‘em.”

“You’ve been at Ryan’s since Griff died.”

There wasn’t anything accusatory in the statement, just seemed more like her getting a feel for his timeline. Max nodded. “Yeah, I started there...mmm...two years before that? Steven Ryans–the guy who owned it–needed some extra help. I guess...more like I made him want extra help?” Max gave a little laugh. “I kept coming by the place because my Dad used to bring his car there. I remember being a really little kid and sitting in the office area. Then, there was one of those candy machines? The kind where you put in a quarter and get a handful of Good N Plentys. Anyway, my Dad would never buy ‘em, but I’d stick my fingers up in there and try to get some out anyway. Ryans’ saw me doing it, and then everytime we came in, he’d pass me a quarter when my Dad wasn’t looking. Told me to keep it a secret.”

“Awwwww,” Ash interrupted, winking at Max.

The table moved just an inch, Ash yelped again, and Max knew that Jennifer had full on kicked him.

“Let the man talk, Aslan,” she chided with a smile on her face. Ash gave a decent sized eyeroll, but Max knew from experience it was more show than anything else.

“Anyway,” Max continued. “After my Dad left, my mom started drinking a lot, bills needed to be paid, yadda yadda you all know the sob story. Everyone’s got one, right?” He grinned, but Jennifer’s smile faded and Max suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d offended her. “Uh...well yeah. I started hanging over there, trying to get Ryans to hire me. Finally he gave in. When I turned fourteen he started teaching me to work on the cars. Couldn’t pay me too much, but I earned some cash every week and figured it all out. And then when he died, ‘turned out he didn’t have any family either. Left me everything. And…” Max shrugged. “Here I am!”

Nodding slowly, Jennifer took another bite of the tiny little salad she’d ordered as ‘dinner’. “Ash likes cars too,” she said after she finished chewing.

Ash threw his head back with an extremely dramatic sigh. “Thanks, Mom. Exceptionally deductive.”

“You’re a brat,” she returned.

“You’re a bathroom hog.”

“You’re a bratty bathroom hog.”

And just like that, they were back to it again–laughing, and joking, and chatting. There was still a small emptiness within Max’s chest that used to contain his own mother, and watching their rapport was just enough to make it start to ache.

At the end of dinner, Max tried to pay the bill only to have it yanked out of his hands by Ash who very proudly stuck 3 twenties in the fold and loudly announced to the waiter that he should ‘keep the change’.

Then they were off.

Jennifer drove them back to the trailer, and Max slowed a bit getting out of the car, trying to figure out the next awkward step.

Ash saved him again from any decision making.

“I’m staying with Max tonight,” he told Jennifer.

Max almost cringed, but she turned around and just gave a nod. “I figured.”

“Cool.” Ash looked back to Max. “Gotta grab a few things. Be right back.” Then he dashed inside the trailer before Max could even respond, leaving he and Jennifer alone outside.

The light went on in the trailer next to them, and Max could hear a dampened yelling going on. Jennifer looked up also, then shrugged. “Always so damn loud. But I guess I’m just paying my dues. Fuck knows there was enough yelling here when Ash’s dad was around.”

She gave Max a hesitant little smile, and Max knew that was as close to forgiveness as he was ever going to get. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For giving me another chance.”

Her smile faltered. “I still think you’re gonna hurt him.”

“I know.”

“I still think he’s an idiot for falling in love with a dying man.”

__Falling in love__. Max’s cheeks started to color and he was suddenly very glad that it was dark outside, and that the orange glow of the porch lights didn’t illuminate much past the first step.

“No answer to that?” she asked.

Max bit his lip. “I mean...I guess..I don’t think we’ve gotten far enough to say–”

“I’ve said it before. He loves you, Max Glenreed. Don’t fuck it up.”

The screen door slammed and then Ash was next to them again, his backpack looped around one shoulder. “You good?” he asked.

“Yup,” Jennifer answered, then she turned and went inside.

“Sweet. Come on.” Ash grabbed the door handle of Max’s truck and swung himself in. Max only had a moment of standing there dumbstruck before Ash stuck his head out the window. “Come on!” he called again, smacking the side of the truck with his hand.

Max shook his head clear, then pulled his keys out of his pocket, got in the car, and drove them both back to the shop.

The worn auto shop sat at the edge of of US 2, the blue _ _Ryans Auto__ letters lit up with fluorescent bulbs. One of the bulbs kept flashing sporadically. Two had burnt out a few months back, so the sign actually read __Ry ns uto__.

Technically, US 2 was a highway, but other than the occasional semi that rolled through, there wasn’t much traffic at all. It was the only major road in and out of Devil’s Lake, but truth be told, most people didn’t feel the need to move much past the boundaries of town.

There was no one on the highway now.

The blue lights glowed fuzzy against the darkness of the night.

The __s__ was flickering now, buzzing harder than all the rest, and Ash figured it would only be a few days more before it went too.

On a horribly windy day, Ash had walked down the otherside of the highway, and Max had walked up the drive. Ash had been high, nothing but anger coursing through his veins.

Tonight wasn’t windy. It was hot, but not the blistering heat of day, just a warm memory of bright sun. The only other sounds were the constant cicadas, and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet as Ash followed Max up and into the building. Tonight he wasn’t high. Tonight he wasn’t angry.

Tonight he was having trouble swallowing.

“You alright?” Max asked as they locked the door behind them, but he sounded like he was having trouble swallowing too.

“Thanks for coming,” Ash said. “I’m glad you and my mom well...kind of bonded?”

“Something like that.”

“She say anything weird to you when I left?”

Max got that look on his face like he was thinking and considering what exactly to say. Finally, he just stepped up and grabbed Ash’s hand. “That you were...uh...that you were in love with me, and that I better not fuck it up.”

Ash only had a moment for the swell of embarrassment to take hold, but then Max leaned down and kissed him deep, fingers tightening around Ash’s own. Max pulled back only a little, lips still brushing against Ash’s, blue eyes open.”Do you?” he asked.

It wasn’t cold in the office, but Ash still shivered. “I...guess?”

“Well that’s reassuring.”

There were nervous butterflies pummeling his insides, and his heart was beating so fast he was certain Max was able to hear it, but Ash closed his eyes tight and then gave a tiny nod. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Look at me?” Max asked.

Ash barely squinted one eye open.

“Oh come on, just look at me!”

“You suck,” Ash muttered, but he looked up into Max’s eyes.

“I love you too,” Max said.

There was this ridiculous, overused cliche that time stopped the moment you realized you were in love.

It didn’t. The cicadas kept buzzing, the air conditioner kicked in, and Cat leapt up on the counter right behind Max and scared the shit out of Ash.

“Fucking christ!” he yelped, jumping back. “Why???”

Laughing, Max nudged Cat off the counter, and she went running back down the hallway. “She likes you!”

“I don’t like her!”

“Not all cats are evil. Not all cats are Pumpkin.” He gave this knowing little smile, and Ash very much regretted telling him any part of that story at all.

“Yeah, well, at least Pumpkin a name. Who names their cat Cat?”

“I spell it with a K.”

“Oh my __god__ ,” Ash groaned, but before he could say anything else, Max pushed him against the wall and started kissing him again.

“I love you,” he murmured against Ash’s lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you–”

“I love you,” Ash tried back, forgetting all about Kat with a K. He could feel the vibrations of Max’s voice deep at the back of his throat, and suddenly Max pressed even tighter against him.

Ash couldn’t help himself–even as he wrapped one hand around the back of Max’s neck, pulling him in even closer, he rucked up Max’s shirt with the other, pressing the palm of his hand flush against the warmth of Max’s abdomen.

“Fuck,” Max gasped into Ash’s mouth. “I want…” he started pushing Ash’s shirt up, helping Ash wriggle out of it, then Ash helped him do the same. “I love you,” he murmured again.

Ash was already hard, he was trying so hard not to grind into Max’s thigh. They’d been hinting at this for so long, but ever since the day of the storm, the day Ash wound up against the siding of the shop with Max’s hand wrapped around his cock, they hadn’t done a thing. His fingers tightened around Max’s neck, and he was trying to work at the button of Max’s jeans when Max grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.

“Wait,” Max groaned. “Wait.”

He took a step back, and Ash almost keened at the loss of body heat. Max ran a hand through his hair, then walked over and flicked off all the lights. “Come on,” he said, voice thick and husky.

Ash followed him down the hall and to the pullout. It was dark, but there was moonlight pouring in through the crack in the shades, and Ash could see Max’s outline clearly. He cleared his throat, trying to say something, but he was too nervous, and too hot, and too desperate to form words.

Max understood.

Max always understood.

He walked back over, clasped Ash’s hand, then led him to the pullout. “Are you alright?” Max whispered.

Ash cleared his throat again. “Yeah,” he finally managed. “Are...you?”

Max smiled so big that even in the darkness it lit up his face. “Yeah.” He leaned back, pulling Ash with him.

They lay facing each other, both barely breathing, both silent.

Ash moved to kiss him again, but Max put a finger against Ash’s lips, barely brushing them.

“Wait…” he whispered, trailing his finger down Ash’s chin, down the curve of his throat, all the way to his chest.

Ash couldn’t breathe. The AC kicked off again, and suddenly it was so quiet that he could hear the sound of Max breathing, he could hear his own heart beating. He didn’t know if he was more scared of Max stopping, or of Max continuing.

“You’re beautiful,” Max murmured.

In the moonlight, Max looked softer–more muted. The harsh lines of his body turned to graceful curves, the reddish blond of his hair faded. The only thing unchanged were those blue, blue eyes, and Ash found it suddenly impossible to look away. He swallowed hard, and then Max’s fingers trailed further down, brushing against Ash’s belly, running across the curve of his hip bone. Every touch was electric, and Ash was a live wire–even the tiny hairs at the back of his neck prickled with intensity.

Then Max’s fingers were lower, slipping under the waistband of Ash’s jeans. “Stop,” Ash gasped, grabbing ahold of Max’s wrist.

Max looked stricken for just a second, and Ash tried to smile. “I just want...I just want to…” He closed his eyes tight, trying to find the words. “Can I touch you too?” he finally asked, voice rough and nervous.

Nodding, Max opened his mouth to say something, but his words got stuck in his throat just like Ash’s had.

Ash reached forward, cupping his hand against the line of Max’s jaw. There was stubble there–a few days old. Max didn’t like to shave as often as Ash did, and Ash loved the way it burned at his skin when they kissed. He let his own fingers glide towards Max’s ear, thumb rubbing circles against the tender skin, fingers grazing Max’s neck. He pushed himself up far enough to brush his lips against the same spot, smiling as he felt Max shudder underneath him. Ash kissed down to the sharp angle of Max’s collarbone, letting his tongue linger just long enough to taste the slight saltiness of Max’s skin. Then he pulled back again, fingers lingering on the swell of Max’s ribcage.

Max gave an uncomfortable little laugh. “I used to..” he tried, voice just a little too harsh. “I used to look...better. Have more muscle. The cancer–”

“You’re perfect,” Ash interrupted.

He was.

His skin was darkly tanned from all the long hours in the sunshine, and Ash was mesmerized by watching every breath he took, each swallow he made. There was a thin but jagged white scar along the line of his ribs and Ash smiled as he traced it. “Dog,” Ash said. “I remember this…”

“Dog,” Max agreed. “Nasty fucker.”

Ash had only been four when Griff and Max had decided to befriend the stray who ate out of the park dumpster. It was cautious, nervous, and terrified. Part of its ear was missing and there was still blood matted against its fur. There was a nasty looking wound on its backside as well–also still bloody. They’d spent four days coaxing it out–leaving food further and further from the dumpster, talking to it in low, careful voices.

On day five, they came out and sat on the curb stop nearest to the dumpster. Griff let Ash come along because he was so curious to see the dog. Griff was holding a bag of pretzels, throwing them one at a time as the dog crept closer.

Max stood slowly and crept forward.

Two trailers down, someone set off a bunch of fireworks.

The dog sprang into action, barreling into Max and biting into his skin. Ash remembered hearing Griff screaming, and Max crying. He remembered the dog running back into the woods, a wounded whimpering sound echoing behind it. He remembered watching dark drops of blood spatter to the pavement as Max pushed himself back up.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Ash said, just as the AC kicked on again. “Dog bites aren’t safe.”

“Yeah, well…” Max shrugged. “Karma’s a bitch, right? I had it coming.”

Ash let his fingers glide lower, stopping at the long line of bruising that curved around Max’s waist. “This is new though,” Ash said.

Max’s fingers closed tight around his wrist. “Cancer,” he mumbled. “Fun side effects.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Max started, but Ash pushed up and kissed him again, long and deep.

“You’re perfect,” Ash said again. Max blinked, then gave a tiny smile. “So are you.”

They explored each other’s bodies, Ash fumbling at the button of Max’s pants, Max helping him slide out of his own. Ash was the more experienced of the two, but he’d never had sex that he wasn’t paid for. Max was more gentle than he was used to, more kind than he was used to.

More in love.

Once they were finally naked, bathed in only the steady moonlight, Ash gave Max a gentle push onto his back. “Do you have...anything?” He asked, fingers trailing up the inside of Max’s thigh.

Max gave a shuddery little sigh as Ash stroked a long line up the base of his swollen cock. “I...uh...yeah. In the drawer.” He turned just enough to reach over to the side table, opening the tiny drawer and pulling out a small bottle. “We don’t have to–”

Ash leaned down and kissed him again, stopping Max’s words. “I want to,” he whispered.

Giving the tiniest nod, Max’s fingers tightened around the bottle. “Okay.”

He sat up, helping Ash down on his back, hand running along Ash’s knee, up his thigh, brushing against his cock. Ash couldn’t help the moan that slipped past his lips.

“Lay back,” Max murmured.

Ash could hear the sound of the bottle cap, then Max’s hand was on him again, spreading his legs out. Max leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ash’s inner thigh, and it was all Ash could do not to gasp. Then Max’s fingers were against Ash’s hole, the lube cold and wet.

“I love you,” Max said, pushing one finger in and working around the tight ring of muscle.

Ash bit his lip, feeling the burn of Max inside of him, but he relaxed into it, watching Max’s eyes the entire time.

Max was slow–finger circling and crooking until Ash whimpered. “More?” Max asked.

Nodding, Ash reached up and wrapped fingers around the back of Max’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “More.”

A second finger was there, pushing for just a second and then sliding in next to the first. Everything was so wet now, and Ash could feel his body acclimating, could feel his cock hard against his belly. Then Max pushed a third in, crooked it just right, and Ash gasped, arching back.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, you’re good.”

“Research,” Max grinned.

Ash shook his head, eyes squeezing closed, unable to concentrate on much besides the slow rub of Max’s fingers inside of himself.

Max kissed him again, and murmured against Ash’s lips, “more?”

“No,” Ash gasped. “You.”

Max slowly withdrew his fingers, and Ash rolled just enough so that Max could get on top of him, both hands on either side of Ash’s chest.

“I love you,” Max said again, cock hard, brushing against Ash’s hole.

“Oh my god,” Ash whimpered. His eyes were closed again, his cheeks were flaming hot, he didn’t know if he was doing any of this right, or if he was just a whore again.

“Ash,” Max whispered. “Look at me.”

Ash opened his eyes and there was nothing but blue. “I love you too,” he murmured.

Max’s hips stuttered against him, and then his cock was entering Ash, so slowly that he wanted to cry.

“More,” Ash gasped, and Max sunk in further, until suddenly he was pressed tight against Ash’s body. Max groaned, eyes flickering closed. “Ohh,” he moaned, hips drawing back just a little before pumping into Ash again.

Ash couldn’t help it, he pulled Max in for another kiss and tightened his legs around Max’s, keeping him as close as he could. Max started pumping faster, and Ash thrust up to meet him, the rub inside of him building so much friction that his own cock started leaking against his stomach leaving thick, sticky lines of precome.

“Oh fuck,” Ash groaned, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his own cock. Max was panting above him, and Ash was drawing in deep, shuddery breaths. He could hear the slapping sounds of their bodies hitting, he could feel Max’s cock hitting that deep spot inside of him--the sparking pleasure a burning heat that pooled in his groin. His hand was working at his cock faster, thumb brushing the head of it with every stroke, and he was getting closer, and closer. “Max,” Ash groaned, bucking against Max’s cock.

“I love you,” Max gasped out, thrusting fast. “Oh fuck, I love you Ash. I love you, I love you, I–” his hips stuttered against Ash and Max let out a low moan as he came.

Ash was whimpering now, tiny little broken sounds as his hand worked his cock faster. He was so close, almost there–

Max leaned down and kissed him again, and Ash jerked, a thick stream of cum splattering across his belly. “Ohhhh,” he moaned, hand still pumping as his cock spurted again.

His hand fell away, and Max was still kissing him, belly against Ash’s, sticky wetness connecting them both. Max slowly pulled out, and Ash could feel cum dripping down his legs, but it wasn’t like any other time before. He wanted Max back inside of him. He wanted to hear the small sounds Max made as he came. He wanted Max to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and never let go.

“I love you,” Max said again, voice quiet and wrecked, but eyes so clear.

Once again, Ash couldn’t look away. “I love you too.”

They lay there for a long time, both breathing hard, cum drying sticky on their bellies. “Shower?” Max finally asked, eyes staring straight up to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Ash murmured, but he didn’t want to move. This boneless, limp feeling was something new. He didn’t have to escape, he didn’t have to worry.

This was what it was to __want__.

Eventually, Max rolled off the bed and Ash followed. The steam from the shower was so thick it almost hid themselves from each other, but Ash could feel the hot washcloth against his body as Max cleaned them both.

Later, Ash helped change the sheets.

They fell back into bed.

Ash curled himself around Max’s bigger frame and listened to the sound of Max’s heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes, a heavy, intoxicating happiness lulling him to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Ash opened his eyes, blinking against the still dark room of the office. There was the barest hint of dawn light coming through the windows making everything inside appear a hazy grey, and he blinked again, trying to get his bearings.

He wasn’t sure what woke him. Normally, once Ash was asleep, he stayed asleep, and he was content to continue that way until the moment his alarm went off. Now, it was barely morning, the only sound was the buzz of the AC, Max was asleep next to him still, warm, solid…

Ash blinked again and slowly turned his head.

Max’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, and his jaw was clenched so tight Ash could see every tendon in his neck pulling. His entire body was locked hard, and his breathing was erratic, barely there.

“Max?” Ash murmured, blinking sleep from his eyes as adrenaline started to course through his body. “Max!”

Max took a deep breath in and held it, and his fingers clenched tight around the sheets at his side. “Pain,” he managed to croak. He took another breath in, and Ash could see his eyes start to water.

“Oh fuck,” Ash said, untangling from the sheets and jumping out of bed. “Oh fuck, okay, what do you need? I don’t...meds. You have meds...you have meds in….” his eyes landed on the desk and a wave of relief washed over him. “Okay, hold on–”

“No…” Max groaned behind him, but Ash didn’t listen, just vaulted over the end of the bed and started ransaking the drawers until he came up with the pill bottles. “Okay, what do you need?” he asked, launching back. “I’ve got...okay. Fentanyl? Yeah, that’s strong, that’ll–”

“No,” Max groaned again. He reached out and grabbed Ash’s wrist. “I can’t. I already took...already took…”

He leaned over the side of the bed and hurled.

“Okay,” Ash repeated, really starting to panic now. “Uh...okay. Okay.” He didn’t seem to have another word in his repertoire other than okay, he was standing in nothing but black briefs, holding three different pill containers, watching Max lean over the side of the bed trying to wipe his mouth and whimpering in pain and just…

Nothing could have prepared him for this,

He wanted to call his mom.

He didn’t.

“Max,” Ash finally said, crouching down and helping Max lay back onto the bed. “Okay, just nod okay? You already took your dosage and so you don’t want to take anymore for pain. Is that right?”

Max was back to clenching his jaw and tangling his hands in the sheets, but he managed a small nod. “Sorry,” he gasped out. “Really…really bad…”

“It’s fine, just listen. I’m gonna…” he turned one of the pill bottles over in his hand, looking for the humber. “Okay, I’m going to call the pharmacy really quick and just see if I can give you another?”

“Doctor,” Max mumbled. “Call...doctor…”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll call the doctor.”

“Desk. There’s... _ _fuck__ ,” Max moaned, eyes squeezing closed. “Same drawer. Card.”

Ash was already back to the desk, opening the same drawer the meds were in, pulling out the business card of the Cancer Center. “On it,” he said, pulling out his phone.

There were four different prompts he had to listen through to finally get to the ‘emergency line’ which would have struck him as fucking hilarious irony in any other moment but right now he was so keyed up with panic he was barely holding it together.

Finally, after three more rings, someone picked up. “North Dakota Cancer Center Emergency Line?”

“Hi, okay, oh my god, okay, my friend has cancer, and he can’t move right now, I guess it’s...pain? Pain is bad. He already took his meds, but he can’t move, can I give him more?”

“Slow down, sweetheart,” she said. “Can he speak to me?”

“No!” Ash shouted. “He can barely speak to me, I just need to know–”

“It’s okay, honey. I just need his name, address, and last four of social security?”

Ash wanted to sink down and start crying, but Max gave another whimper of pain, and the smell of vomit was becoming overwhelming, and he just...he didn’t know what to do.

“Max?” Ash asked, walking back over. “I’m really sorry. I need...shit. Last four of social security?”

“Five, three, three, eight,” Max ground out.

“Okay, Max Glenreed, address is eight three three zero US-2 Devil’s Lake, zip code five eight three O one, and social is five three three eight.”

“Thank you,” she said, and Ash could hear her nails clacking against the keyboard. “Now what was your question?”

“Okay, he’s on three different medications here. He’s got cancer, he’s in a lot of pain right now, and he said that he took the max dose so he doesn’t want to take anymore. But he can’t move, he can barely breathe, he’s sick, and I don’t know if I need to get him to a hospital,or–”

“Slow down,” she said again. “He’s going to be fine, I need you to take a deep breath.”

__He’s not going to be fine, he’s dying, and I don’t want to take a deep breath!__ Ash wanted to scream into the line, but he tried his best to calm down and not focus on the way his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest.

“Okay, I can see three prescriptions–one for Fentanyl, one for Oxycodone, and one for Lexapro. You said he took the maximum dosage for the two painkillers?”

“That’s what he told me!” “Do you know when?”

Ash looked over at Max who had thrown an arm over his eyes and was still stiff as a board and breathing heavily. “Hey, Max, I’m really sorry, when did you take them?”

“Two codeine...midnight. One...of...the other at 4.”

“Okay, so...crap, sorry,” he apologized to the nurse, trying to get his phone to flash with the time. “Okay so he took two Oxy about five hours ago. The fentanyl was one hour ago.”

“Alright. You can give him another two of the oxycodone right now. We are an hour early for it, but it’s going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god,” Ash groaned. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thanks,” and Ash hung up before he could even hear a response as he fumbled with the cap. “Okay, Max?”

Max groaned in response.

“Okay, you need to take two of these,” Ash ordered, holding his hand out with the pills.

“Took ‘em already,” Max mumbled.

“No. The nurse said it was fine, you’re fucking dying of cancer already and you’re over here arguing with me about pill dose! Please, for fucks sake, just take these.”

Max didn’t say anything, just managed to push himself up enough to grab at the pills. He swallowed them down dry, then fell back on the bed, eyes clenched tight in pain again.

“Thank you,” Ash whispered. “Oh fuck, thank you. I swear to god, only you would fucking obey the dosage instructions of pain medication even though you’re already dying...fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Ash pressed a hand to his mouth and took a deep breath, trying to steady his own breathing and trying very hard not to start crying. He stayed frozen there for a long while, thoughts running through his head a mile a minute. He was afraid to move, he was afraid to stay, he was afraid to watch Max suffer anymore…

“Fuck,” he swore again, then headed down the hall to the cleaning cupboard. Amazingly, there was carpet cleaner already there. Ash didn’t want to think about if it was because these episodes happened more frequently then Max had ever let on, and instead did his best to convince himself it was for Kat. He grabbed paper towels, a trash bag, the cleaner, and then headed back over to the head of the bed.

“Sorry,” Max moaned again as Ash knelt down.

“Don’t be. It’s fine, everything is fine, I just want you to…”

Fuck. Feel better? Get better? Don’t die? “Just try to sleep,” he settled on, feeling like shit for not having anything better to say.

Max let out another long, shuddering breath and stayed quiet.

Once Ash had everything clean, he managed to make his way to the bathroom, throw his clothes back on, and try to smooth down his greasy hair that was ticking up every which way.

His eyes were red and swollen like he’d been crying, and when he took a deep breath in, he realized that his hands were starting to shake. “Fuck,” Ash murmured, watching the way his mouth took shape in the mirror.

By the time he came back out, Max had slightly more color in his face, and his breathing wasn’t quite as jagged. His eyes were closed, and Ash tiptoed past, trying to make as little sound as possible so that Max could actually sleep.

His phone was still in his pocket.

The AC was still running.

The sun was coming over the horizon now, and everything in the office was brushed with buttery yellow tones.

It was all so normal, and yet Ash was having trouble swallowing.

He went over to the kitchen and began to make coffee.

Max woke up slowly, brain coming online long before he opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy, and his mouth tasted like it was full of cotton. His back hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt.

But he could breathe normally again.

He carefully blinked open his eyes and swallowed, trying not to move just in case the pain wasn’t really over, just in case he triggered something again.

“How are you...doing?”

Ash’s voice came to his left, right by his head, and Max managed to turn just enough to see him perched on a chair that he’d dragged over, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other bouncing up and down.

“Yeah,” Max said, flinching at the way his voice cracked. “Fuck, I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that–”

“It’s fine. It’s all fine, I just...you scared me. But it’s fine.”

“It’s not. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Neither should you.”

Ash’s eyes flashed with the bright vivid green that Max loved so much, and he found he couldn’t look away. “I’m really sorry,” Max said again, shame so thick in his chest he choked on it.

“Stop apologizing.” Ash reached out and grabbed Max’s hand, squeezing tight. “You scared me. But it wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t have to stay here–”

“Now who’s being self-pitying and dramatic?” Ash asked, eyebrow arching.

Max laughed, but it hurt his ribs so much he tamped down quickly. “Fair enough,” he said, “but you didn’t sign up to clean up my puke.”

“No…” Ash squeezed his hand even tighter. “I signed up to be with you. And a little puke isn’t going to throw me. You do realize that I showed up at your place a couple weeks back covered in blood after whoring myself out for cash.” Even though it was a joke, Ash’s face shuttered closed at that sentence, and Max could see the way he tensed up.

“So...we’re both disasters?” Max gave a little smile.

Ash stared at him for a long time before returning the smile. “Yeah.”

“You’re worth it kid,” Max said.

“And you’re cheesy as fucking hell.”

“Yup.” Max tried to keep his eyes open but everything felt too heavy. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Drugs.”

“Go back to sleep,” Ash murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

__Now who’s the cheesy one__ , Max wanted to say, but the foggy haze of codeine pulled him back down before he could open his mouth.

The next time Max woke up, it was with a surprised yelp as Kat jumped straight on his chest.

“Max!” Ash yelled from the kitchen, running over with a spatula in his hand. “God damn it,” he swore as soon as he saw Kat. “Get the fuck off. Shoo. Shoo!”

Max watched as Ash flicked the spatula in Kat’s general direction a few times, cheeks turning red. Smiling, Max gently nudged Kat and she jumped off the bed, giving an annoyed little chirp in Ash’s directing before turning and trotting back down the hallway. “You seriously expected her to give a shit that you were waving a spatula in her general direction from five feet away?” Max asked, unable to control his grin.

Ash’s cheeks reddened further. “Whatever,” he huffed. “Here I thought you were trying to die on me again and it’s just a stupid cat.”

“You know, when I die...I’d love for you to be the one to take care of Kat–”

“Oh fuck off, Max” Ash growled, then he turned around and headed back into the kitchen.

Max laughed, then gave a sigh of relief that he was able to laugh again without excruciating pain. His entire body ached, his teeth hurt from clenching them so tight, his head was still throbbing, but he could breathe again. He could move again. And the drugs had worn off enough that he could __think__ again.

Max pushed himself up to a sitting position in the bed, then ran his fingers along the length of his legs, arms, stomach, prodding for anything still tender.

He was going to have trouble moving around like normal for the next day or two, but he was used to it.

He __wasn’t__ used to Ash seeing everything.

Swallowing hard, Max swung his legs around and stood up, holding on to the side table for support. There was a patch on the carpet that was lighter than usual–bleached out just the slightest amount from the carpet cleaner. Max vaguely remembered Ash cleaning up last night, but just seeing it there made the humiliation and shame flare hot in his stomach.

Ash was a 19 year old kid who’d had his own fair share of shit. Max shouldn’t be dragging him through more.

“Back to feeling sorry for yourself?” Ash asked.

Max looked up. Ash was leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, two cups of steaming coffee in his hands, and a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He looked adorably helpful, and Max watched his lips part the slightest bit as his tongue pushed at his teeth. Max didn’t need to see the sparkle of Ash’s tongue piercing to know it was there.

“Stop that,” Max said. “It’s worse than biting your nails.”

Ash’s lips closed and his nose wrinkled. “You like it just fine when I’m kissing you,” he muttered, then he set both cups down on the desk, walked over to Max, rose up on his feet and wrapped his arms around Max’s neck. “Can I?” he asked. “Kiss you?”

Max moved first, bending down to meet Ash’s lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You scared me,” Ash said, pulling away but still holding Max’s eyes. “That’s all. And now that I know how to handle it, what to do, and the last four of your social security...” he said it with this ridiculous little twinkle in his eyes and Max didn’t know whether to kiss him or to hit him.

“By all means, feel free to run off with the millions I have stashed in the secret treasure hiding place underneath the carpet. Just know that I hired Kat to guard it.”

“Well in that case,” Ash said, eyes flickering up just enough that Max knew he was carefully considering his witty retort. Instead, he shrugged. “You scared me,” he repeated. “But I’m glad I was here. Has that happened before?”

Sighing, Max shrugged out of Ash’s grip and walked over to the desk. “Coffee?” he asked, picking up both mugs and handing one to Ash. “On me!”

Ash rolled his eyes, but accepted the cup.

“Yeah, It’s happened before.” Max sipped at the coffee, ignoring the way it scalded his tongue, just desperate for the sharp, bitter taste. “More frequently now.”

“Are you always in pain?”

Max shrugged. “Not always? Sometimes I’m just fine. Others, there’s a dull ache. Occasionally it’s like last night. I guess...I don’t know. I know it’s going to get worse before the end, but I’m already basically at the end so–”

“Dramatic,” Ash cut in, with a tiny smile.

“Dramatic,” Max agreed. “It happened the first night you stayed over. Nowhere near this bad, but bad enough that I could barely move.”

“When I found you under the desk?” Ash asked.

“Right. I was trying not to wake you up.”

“I wish you had just told me then.”

Max took another sip of coffee. “Would it have changed anything?”

“You wouldn’t have been completely alone with that knowledge for quite as long.”

“It was only a couple of weeks difference,” Max said.

“A couple weeks for a man with two months to live? That’s a long time.” Ash moved closer and grabbed Max’s hand.

They stayed that way for a long time, leaning against the desk and sipping coffee. Ash’s hand was warm around Max’s. Max would never have thought that a little, tiny touch like this would feel like the sun, but just knowing Ash was next to him comforting, and wonderful, and __right__.

“It’s terrifying,” Ash finally said, breaking the silence. “I mean...you seem just fine so much of the time? It’s hard for me to believe that you’re sick. And then last night…”

“Little bit easier to believe?”

“Right.”

“Cancer sucks.”

“Cancer sucks,” Ash echoed.

His hand tightened around Max’s again.

“I’ve got a couple of oil changes later–”

“No you don’t,” Ash said. “I cleared your schedule. Cancelled them.”

“Oh. Okay…”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not! Means we can work on the Chevelle!”

Ash turned to face him, nose wrinkling up again. “Are you sure you’re feeling good enough to–”

“Look, kiddo. Don’t start treating me like glass about to shatter just because you cleaned my puke off the floor. I’m good. And I want to finish that damn car before I die or I’ll have to come back as a ghost and haunt you until you do it.”

“Alright!” Ash laughed. “Fine. You win. Let’s work on the car.”

The sun was blisteringly hot and Max’s body hurt all over, but being underneath the Chevelle and finally working on the small stuff was keeping him distracted. He’d been working on this car for two years straight and it was finally coming together in a way that was so invigorating Max wanted to cry. The timing of everything was going to be tough. He figured that even keeping at it all day every day of the week, it would take another couple of weeks to finish. There was no way for him to do that and continue to keep the shop open, and he was already living on borrowed time.

Ash kept begging him to finally close the doors. Get affairs in order. Shut down and do whatever the fuck Max wanted until he couldn’t anymore.

It was tempting, but it was also hard to get Ash to understand that all Max wanted to do was live life like it wasn’t about to end.

“This fucking sucks, Max,” Ash called from inside the car, derailing Max’s thoughts.

He smiled and pushed out from underneath the car “That’s why I made you do it!”

“I hate you.” Ash crawled out from the passenger seat, box cutter in hand, blood dripping down his wrist.

“I told you to trim up the steering wheel and gas pedal, not slice your hand off!” Max yelped.

“I hate you, and I hate razor blades,” Ash groaned. He flicked the blade closed and tossed it to the ground before pressing his thumb hard against the large slice on his palm. “Bandaid?”

Max wiped the sweat out of his eyes and walked over, reaching out.

“Don’t fucking touch it with grease hands!” “Fair point,” Max laughed. “Alright, you need more than a bandaid though. Come on.”

Ash followed him inside and through the hallway where they both headed to the kitchen sink to wash up. Max grabbed the first aid kit, then forced Ash into the desk chair. “Hand up,” he said, opening up the kit and pulling out gauze.

Ash grimaced. “A band aid would have been just fine.”

“Yeah, and then I can send you home to Jennifer, she’ll decide you’re about to die of gangrene, and I’ll be right back on her shit list. No thanks.”

“Pretty sure it needs to at least be infected before I die of gangrene.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume it’s not going to get infected Mr. ‘I only need a bandaid on a three inch gash’.” Max made sure to smile bright, just because he knew it was irritating Ash even more.

“Should I go to the hospital too, Dad?” Ash griped, rolling his eyes. He held his hand up though and let Max take it.

Once Ash was solidly gooed up with Neosporin, wrapped with gauze, and taped so hard he probably couldn’t move his hand at all, Max was content to let him go.

“You realize that I can’t actually bend my fingers now,” Ash said as they headed back down the hall. “So I’m basically useless.”

“You were useless before anyway. What kind of halfway decent interior restoration artist slices their hand with a box cutter?”

Ash pushed him, then Max pushed back, then Ash pushed again, and suddenly Max was up against the wall, Ash pressing into him, their lips meeting just long enough to leave Max breathless.

When Ash stepped away, his eyes flickered up to Max. “Love you,” Ash murmured.

“Love you too, kid,” Max said.

Ash released a breath, then smiled. “Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

“Bring me a Coke?”

“I’m not your maid…”

“But you’d look damn cute in an apron,” Max returned, biting his lip hard not to laugh.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Ash groaned, but he turned and walked back toward the kitchen.

Max headed back out to the Chevelle.

It took a week for Ash to stop treating him with kid gloves. Max knew he was trying hard, but every so often he’d freeze up.

They hadn’t had sex since that first time, and even though Max had tried to initiate, Ash was scarily good at deflecting the situation.

Ash didn’t ever overtly say that he was worried something would hurt Max, that __sex__ would hurt Max, but the way he held himself tense and nervous spoke miles.

“It wasn’t you,” Max murmured in Ash’s ear as they lay together on the bed, kissing, and touching, and doing everything __but__. It was a Friday night–a week after the incident, and once again, everytime Max tried to push just a little further than kissing, Ash would freeze up. “I’d been having twinges of pain the entire day. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t the...sex...it wasn’t anything you did.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Ash said, just a little too quickly.

Max nuzzled into Ash’s neck for a second, then he kissed against the exact spot where Ash’s pulse fluttered as he breathed. “It wasn’t you…” he whispered again.

“Max,” Ash said, trying half-heartedly to push Max away.

Max wasn’t about to let him. “I love you,” he said, kissing up the curve of Ash’s neck. His fingers traced patterns into Ash’s bare arm, from the top of his shoulder all the way down to his wrist. Ash shivered against him, and Max knew he’d almost won.

“I love you,” he said again.

Groaning, Ash fisted a hand in Max’s hair and pulled at him just enough for Max to move up again. “Why are you so good at this?” he asked, cheeks flushed.

“Years of experience?” Max asked.

“Tch.” Ash kissed him gently, then pulled back. “Look, I’m trying not to be worried. But…”

“You are. I know.”

“Shit. I am. I’m sorry, I suck.” He squeezed his eyes closed for a second. “I don’t want you to be in pain,” he finally whispered, chewing at his lower lip.

Max leaned forward enough that their noses brushed against each other. “I know.”

“I’m also…” Ash gave a little laugh. “Okay, I’m also intensely frustrated here because of course I want to...you know…”

“Let me fuck you?” Max filled in, and grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Ash let go and fell back against the pillow. “You’re impossible to talk to.”

He swallowed, and Max watched the motion from his jaw, to his neck. Watched as he took in another breath–the way his chest rose, the way it fell again so suddenly. The lamp was on, and Max could see the tiny, golden hairs along Ash’s arms, he could see the almost invisible trail leading from his navel down underneath the waistband of his jeans.

He reached over and ran a finger down Ash’s chest, stopping just shy of the button of his jeans. Ash took another deep breath, and this one shuddered out.

Max closed his eyes, curling around Ash so that he was breathing against his neck. “Can I?” he whispered, fingers rubbing at the jut of Ash’s hipbone.

Ash’s teeth clenched–his jaw was so tense Max could feel the sharp cut of it against the bridge of his nose. Then Ash gave a little nod.

Max worked at the button of Ash’s jeans, popping it free with his thumb and forefinger as Ash fisted his hands in the sheets. Then he worked the zipper down, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Ash’s briefs. Ash was already half-hard, but as Max rubbed along his length with the backs of his fingers, Ash gave a little whimper and his erection grew further.

Max pushed at his jeans, and Ash arched his hips just far enough to help, wriggling out of them quickly.

“Yours too,” Ash murmured, grabbing at Max’s wrist.

“Needy,” Max said, but he wriggled out of his own jeans easily enough before lying back down next to Ash.

Ash reached over, trying to turn towards Max, trying to touch Max, but Max just batted him away. “Let me,” he murmured.

“You always do all the work,” Ash said, biting down on his lip as Max’s thumb ran along the crease of his hip.

“I promise to make it up to you,” Max said. He pushed himself up on his elbow, lying his head against his hand so that he could watch every expression Ash made. His fingers slid across sensitive skin leaving goosebumps in their wake, and Ash closed his eyes, breath quickening.

Max leaned over, pressing a kiss gently to Ash’s lips, then his fingers slipped under the elastic of Ash’s briefs, rubbing against his cock.

“Max,” Ash gasped, eyes squeezing tight.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Max groaned, hand closing around the length of Ash’s cock.

Ash’s hands tightened in the sheets again, and he let out a whimper as Max slowly stroked upward, thumb running along the the head just enough to feel wetness. “Perfect,” Max whispered again, then he dipped his head down, nuzzling against Ash’s neck for just a second before kissing him, sucking a bruise into the skin just above his collarbone.

“Max,” Ash gasped again, reaching over to rub against Max’s own erection, bulging against the cotton of his briefs.

“No,” Max ordered, letting go of Ash’s cock long enough to push his hand away.

“But...I want to touch you?” Ash’s eyes flickered open and he tried to push against Max again.

“No. Later.”

“Max–”

“Later,” Max said again. It was getting hard to swallow, and desire was pooling thick in his belly, but he wanted to watch Ash come apart more than once tonight and he was desperate to hold off on his own pleasure until Ash came first.

Ash didn’t say anything else, just gave a little choked off moan as Max grasped his cock again and began to stroke just a little bit harder.

Max kissed him again, then tucked his head against Ash’s chest and just watched–watched the way the head of Ash’s cock leaked, watched the way his thumb dipped in that wetness again and again as his hand carefully twisted around. Watched the way the muscles of Ash’s abdomen held tight anytime it got too sensitive. He could hear Ash’s heartbeat, loud and fast in his ears. He could hear every breath Ash took, every little whimper he let escape.

Max’s body was pressed against Ash, and his own cock rubbed against Ash’s thigh with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, and it was almost impossible not to rut against Ash’s leg, trying to find more friction.

“Max,” Ash gasped out again. His face was flushed, his eyes flickered open and his pupils were blown wide. “I can’t...I can’t last…”

Max just grinned and started pumping harder, letting a finger trail up the underside of Ash’s cock. He wanted to taste Ash so badly all of a sudden–open his mouth and swallow Ash down as far as he could. Their bodies were pressed so tight against each other, hot, and sweaty, and __perfect__. “Ash,” Max groaned. He turned his head again, kissing up the side of Ash’s arm to his neck as his hand worked faster.

Ash was biting his lip so hard it bloomed red, and his eyes closed tight.

He looked so much like that first time, that moment beneath the eaves as the rain poured down around them–innocent, and beautiful, and everything Max had ever wanted.

“Max, stop, I’m gonna–”

“You can,” Max whispered.

Ash jerked once in Max’s hand, spilling hot against his chest and Max’s fingers. Max jerked him through it, slowing down in increments as Ash’s breathing slowed. Everything was wet and sticky, and Max shuddered against Ash as he finally let go of Ash’s cock and ran a finger up his chest,

“Gross,” Ash said, his voice hushed and still shaky.

“Perfect.” “You...you keep saying that…”

“Sorry.” It was Max’s turn to blush. “I just...you are.”

Ash’s eyes flickered open, and he pushed himself up on his arms just far enough that he could look at Max. “Yeah, well...now I’ve gone and…” he motioned to his stomach. “Too soon.”

“Nope,” Max said. “You’re young. And we’ve got all night.” He leaned down, their noses brushing again, and looked deep into Ash’s bright green eyes.

“All night?” Ash asked, smile tentatively forming.

“All night,” Max agreed.


	15. Chapter 15

Summer ended, fall began, Ash could hear the sound of the school bell ringing in the morning when he woke up, and when he walked to the shop, the school bus passed him by every morning.

The trees were fading, color sucked out of them from months of heat, withered bark shrinking back even more. The graduates of last spring were now trapped in Devil’s Lake, realizing that they’d escaped highschool only to become stuck in a dying town.

Ash didn’t pay much attention to where people ended up, but he’d run into Jessica at the Walmart where she was working behind the cake counter decorating birthday cakes for kids who still believed in magic, and he’d seen Cain–one of Arthur’s old cronies–working at the Ace Hardware when he’d run in on an errand from Max.

Some kids had it easier. Alex had taken a job as an intern at his father’s tech company that was based in Fargo. He’d escaped.

Unfortunately, though he was also working for his father, Arthur was still around.

Ash seemed to run into him everywhere–the gas station, the Walmart, even just walking down the road Arthur would somehow manage to drive by. Just when Ash would get to the point of assuming the guy was stalking him, a few days would go by with no sighting.

But he’d alway reappear.

Since summer ended, there was also a resurgence of texts from him, all trying to manipulate Ash back into the whoring game.

Ash ignored everything.

Max did not.

On one particularly irritating night, the phone buzzed five times in a row as Ash was on his knees, in the middle of working the zipper on Max’s jeans.

“Fucking hell,” Max finally swore, reaching over and grabbing the phone.

“Just ignore it,” Ash murmured, gripping Max’s thighs tight and trying to pull him back.

“Nope.” Max nudged Ash’s head away, and Ash groaned in protest.

“Come on, just ignore it!”

“Nope,” Max said again, thumbing through the passcode and then opening the messages. “Wait. Who...Arthur? The same Arthur who–”

“Yes, the same Arthur who’s an asshole,” Ash said, rolling his eyes and grabbing the phone back. “Could we please get back to–”

“Why do you still have his number? Why the fuck is he still texting you? Asking you to...fuck!”

“Jealous much?” Ash pulled open the most recent text–a string of curse words followed by the lovely insuation that Ash’s current ‘faggot boyfriend’ must pay really well to keep Ash from crawling back on his hands and knees. “Just ignore him,” he said a third time, sighing, and thumbing the phone to mute.

“No! Come on. Block the number.”

“It’s easier just to trash the messages.” “No. It’s easier to block the number.”

“Max,” There was a turning of his stomach, and something raw and foul started to ooze out. Ash swallowed hard. “Just leave it. Okay?”

Max studied him long and hard, his blue eyes flinty in the glow of the lamp.

“It’s not..” Ash started. There was no good way to put it, and he didn’t even know where to start. “It’s not a big deal?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Max said, eyes softening. “I know you can take care of yourself. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” Ash said. Then he crawled back up the bed, straddled Max’s lap, and kissed him deeply.

He __was__ happy.

It’s just that...Arthur was a back-up. Ash had been through enough to know that even when life looked like it was turning out just right, there was always something lurking around the next corner. He was making money now, he was working for Max, but Max was…

If he threw away Arthur, then he threw away the means to survive in a future where he didn’t have Max.

Ash squeezed his eyes tight, kissed Max harder, and swallowed down the terror that was threatening to eat him alive.

They finished the interior of the Chevelle in mid-September, on a day that was far too chilly to be considered normal. Ash kept sticking his hands into the pocket of his black sweatshirt, trying to keep them warm, and Max had actually kept the bright orange jumpsuit on entirely, instead of his normal, disheveled half on-half off look. It was completely still outside of the garage–no wind, no sound, only the ominous grey of clouds that were stagnant and unmoving above them.

They popped in the last seat together–Ash hauling it up and holding it as Max worked underneath–and as soon as it was done, Max got this huge smile on his face that Ash never wanted to forget.

“Happy, old man?”

Max took a step back, admiring their work. The bumpers were still missing, as was all of the exterior trim. They still had to wire the heater in, and finish up the interior of the trunk.

But it was driveable.

“Fuck,” Max said, holding a fist to his mouth. He turned around and kicked at the step. “Fuck.”

“You alright?”

“I just…” he stepped forward again and ran a hand along the shining curve of the upper body of the car. “I honestly didn’t think I’d see it done.”

His voice sounded harsh, ragged. Full of emotion. Ash watched him swallow hard, then run fingers through his hair.

“Fuck,” he said again. “Should we?”

“Drive it?” Ash said eagerly. “Fuck yeah.”

Max walked over to a pegboard that hung above the tool shelf and pulled off a keyring with two silver keys attached. “You do the honors?” he asked, throwing the keys at Ash.

Ash caught them, then threw them right back. “Nope. She’s yours. You’re driving, old man.”

Max seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded, grin spreading.

He was getting skinnier every day, and his face had taken on a subtle yellow tone that was constant. Ash could see the bones in his face–harder lines than ever before–and he could feel the bones in his body at night as they lay beneath the sheets, Ash’s fingers tracing lines over every bump.

It didn’t matter. When he smiled, when he blinked, when he called Ash’s name, when his hand brushed against Ash’s as they reached for the same tool, when he sat down on the steps next to Ash and opened a Coke, when he breathed, when he breathed, when he breathed…

Ash loved him.

“We ought to drive her around a bit,” Max said as they both got in, buckling seat belts around their body that clicked so solidly, the smell of brand new upholstery and leather so strong. “Nothing crazy. Just around town, then out to the highway for a while. Make sure I didn’t fuck anything up.”

“You’re way too obsessive for fucking things up.”

“Here’s hoping that’s true.” Max turned the key in the engine, and the car rumbled to life, The radio flicked on, Ash went to work tuning the station, and as soon as the classic rock station popped on in the middle of __Gimme Shelter__ , it flicked off again.

“Uh,” Ash said, clicking at the power button a few times. “About that not fucking things up…”

“God damnit.” Max reached across and smacked at the box with no results. “Bodes well for our trip…”

“Rater apropos though. Radio in the truck doesn’t work. Radio in the garage doesn’t work. Radio in the Chevelle–”

“Apropos?” Max asked, voice pitching high.

“Shut up.”

“So apropos that we met. So apropos that you knew enough about cars that I could put you to work. So apropos that we grew up together. So apropos–”

“Oh my god, Max shut up!” “You deserve it, Mr. English degree.”

“Fine. I deserve it. Please drive the car?”

Max grinned, then shifted into first gear and started easing the car out of the garage.

They rolled out, gravel crunching beneath the tires, picking up enough speed to get all the way down the lane, turn onto US 12, and then really get going.

Ash started whooping as a semi passed them, Max started laughing, and though the day was still cold, they rolled the windows down just to feel the wind through their hair.

It was perfect.

They drove back and forth through the town a few times before Max asked Ash if he wanted to head out towards Grand Forks.

“I mean...sure?” Ash said. His elbow rested on the open window, hand tapping along the edge of the door, and he’d do absolutely anything Max said just to keep this sort of happiness alive.

“I can buy you lunch?”

“If you are going to buy me another milkshake and try to force me to drip my fries in it, it’s not going to work.”

“So suspicious!”

“I’m not doing it, it’s gross.” “You didn’t think so last time…”

Ash groaned, and made a big show of rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling.

The drive passed quicker than it did the last time, and Ash realized it was because there wasn’t a pooling ocean of anxiety in his gut. Before he knew it, they were in the McDonalds with trays of food in front of them, and Max was back at his disgusting habit, dipping every french fry deep into the vanilla shake and slurping it down with gusto.

Ash just shook his head and powered down the first of two Big Macs.

“I talked to the lawyer.”

Ash’s head shot up. “The one–”

“Yeah, the one you found. Met with him last Thursday.”

Last Thursday...ah. That was the day Ash had borrowed Max’s pick-up to drive his mom to work while they worked on her car that had broken down for the thousandth time outside the diner. Ash tried not to say anything. Though it was clear that Max had set it up specifically when Ash wasn’t around, he was at least talking about it at all, and Ash didn’t want to spook him off the subject.

“Got everything squared away I guess.”

“Oh,” Ash said, watching as Max ate another fry. “He..uh...nice?”

Max’s eyebrows raised as he stared down Ash. “He’s a lawyer. Who deals specifically in people dying. Sure. He was nice.”

“I wasn’t implying you were gonna be best friends or anything,” Ash murmured, taking another big bite of burger.

“Well, everything’s set. You’re getting the shop.”

“Max–”

“I know, you said you didn’t want it. Sorry. I don’t have anyone else to leave shit to, so it’s yours. Sell it, work at it, run away and let it rot with the rest of Devil’s Lake. I don’t care, I just want you to have it.”

“Max…” Suddenly the burger turned to dust in his throat and it was all Ash could do to swallow around it all.

“Leaving you the car, too. There’s not a lot of money, and there will be a hell of a lot less assuming I kick it in a hospital, but that’s yours. And just please...be nice to Kat?”

Ash finally cleared the food from his throat. “Can we please not talk about this right now?” he asked quietly. He’d been begging Max to get everything in order for what felt like an eternity but now that it was…

It made everything so much more solid. So much more impossible.

“Oh.” Max bit his lower lip, then tried to smile.

He looked tired, and old, and sick in a way that was absolutely terrifying.

“Sorry,” Ash said. “Shit, I just…”

“No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

They sat in silence a little while, Ash picking at the rest of his food, and Max just staring. Finally, Ash bundled up all of his trash. Max’s platter was still mostly untouched–a carton of chicken nuggets with only one gone, and most of the french fries and shake. “You gonna eat?” he asked.

“Oh. Naa, not really hungry,” Max said, shrugging.

“You...didn’t eat anything though?”

“Had plenty of gross fry and shake combo!”

“Not really...”

Max shrugged again. “Just not very hungry.”

He stood up and grabbed Ash’s platter and his own, then dumped them both in the trash. “Ready to see if the Chevelle starts up again?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah!” Ash said, hoping his voice sounded happy, or excited, or anything else but like he was about to cry.

They pulled into the truck stop on the way back, just so Max could top off the tank. Ash jumped out and leaned against the hood, revelling in how fucking cool they both looked.

“It drives,” Max said, biting his lower lip and smiling. He was trying to contain his excitement like he always did, and Ash had a hard time not pulling him in for a kiss on the spot.

Instead, he just kicked at the pavement, trying his best to emulate Max’s poor attempt at composure. “Yup.” He snuck a look back up at Max who was staring at the car like a proud parent. “Good job, old man.”

“Awww shucks,” Max said, raising his eyebrows and clearly trying to provoke Ash.

“Cute.” Ash leaned close enough that their shoes touched.

“Hey! Ash!”

Nose wrinkling in annoyance, Ash turned away from Max and towards fucking Frederick Arthur who had pulled up to the pump adjacent and was walking towards them.

Max’s grip on the gas pump tightened and Ash could see the bones of his knuckles standing out rigid and strong. “It’s fine,” Ash murmured, then he turned to Arthur. “What.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Arthur said. His hair was smoothed back, tufts of dandelion gold blowing in the wind. It had gotten a bit longer since Ash had seen him last–long enough that it curled around Arthur’s ears and brushed against the back of his neck.

He looked tanner too–like he’d spent the summer outside almost as much as Ash, but his eyes were still that icy cold blue with no emotion at all.

Ash rolled his eyes. “Not interested.” He turned back to Max, but Arthur stuck a hand out and grabbed Ash’s shoulder, pulling him back around.

“You’ll be interested next time your mom spends all the rent money at the slots,” he hissed in Ash’s ear.

Anger roared to life inside Ash, hot and furious, but he took a deep breath and forced his hands to steady–to not tighten into fists. “Sure,” he managed to say. “I’ll be in fucking touch.”

Arthur didn’t let go, just pulled Ash even closer. “That your faggot boyfriend?” he asked, just loud enough that Ash knew Max could hear it. Arthur waived at Max as Ash pushed him off.

“Just fuck off, Arthur.”

“Doesn’t look like your type, Lynx,” Arthur purred. His voice was pitched soft again, for Ash’s ears only. “Thought you liked it when pot-bellied old men fucked you. That one just looks like he’s dying.”

Ash hauled off, but before he could land a punch, Max was there, pulling him away. “Not worth it, Ash,” he said. “Come on. Tank’s full, let's go home.”

“Aww, adorable,” Arthur called after them. “Call me anytime, baby!”

“This the guy who keeps texting you, right?” Max asked as Ash pulled the door open.

“Yeah. Fucking asshole.”

“Yeah…hold on a second.” Max tapped against the car, then walked back over to Arthur.

“Wait,” Ash fumbled with the seatbelt, trying to get back out of it again. “Fuck, Max–”

He looked out the window just in time to see Max smile at Arthur, reach out to shake his hand...

And then haul off and punch Arthur straight in the face.

“Holy shit,” Ash murmured as Max came jogging back to the car, holding his hand against his side.

Arthur was holding his nose and staggering near his truck as blood poured out between his fingers, and Ash couldn’t stop staring, even as Max slid into the seat next to him.

“Fuck, that hurt,” Max swore, still cradeling his hand.

“No fucking kidding! Shit, I think you broke his nose!” Ash couldn’t stop watching, even as Max started the car. Arthur started yelling bloody murder and pointing at their car. Someone jogged over and tried to hand him a towel but Arthur just batted him away. There was blood on his crisp white polo, there was blood spattering the dirt around him, but as Max pulled away, the most overwhelming feeling of satisfaction overcame Ash and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Thought you said to leave it?” he said, as the car rumbled back out to the highway.

“Yeah, well...he’s an asshole.” Max shook out his hand again, grimacing. “Fuck, I forgot how much it hurts to punch someone!”

“Probably shouldn’t make it a habit.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Max’s smile was so bright it lit up the entire car.

Ash leaned back and inhaled deeply, soaking in the new leather, the new carpet, the new car. Max’s happiness was contagious, and Ash couldn’t help but bask in his own..

As they pulled into the driveway of the auto shop, there was nothing that could touch him–nothing that could hurt him.

There was Max, and there was Ash.

Nothing else mattered.

The lawyer called Ash a week later to discuss logistics.

The phone buzzed in his pocket while Ash was underneath a car working the brake lines. Max was right next to him, holding the flashlight between his teeth and pointing out where exactly Ash needed to work, giving him instructions every step of the way, even though his own hands were shaking from a pervasive exhaustion that was starting to color every hour of the day.

Ash ignored it, reaching out to adjust the fittings again.

“Come on,” Max said, tapping at his knee and then sliding out from under the car.

“No, we’re close. I almost got it–”

“Come on.”

Ash groaned, then slid out too. His hands were greasy and black with oil, his phone kept buzzing, and he looked at Max helplessly. “This can’t possibly be this important!” he said, just as Max stepped up and tucked a hand into Ash’s pocket, pulled out his phone, and answered.

“Hey, Ash’s phone?”

“Seriously?” Ash asked.

“Go wash your hands,” Max murmured, then he nodded in response to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Yeah, he’ll be right here.”

“Max,” Ash groaned, but he walked over to the sink and did the obligatory wash before taking his phone again.

“Yup,” he said into the phone while eyeing Max with suspicion.

“Hello. Aslan Callenreese?”

Ash’s stomach tightened in suspicion at the use of his legal name. “Yup.”

“Yes, this is Steven Swenseth, calling from Swenseth Law. I wanted to touch base with you. I’m sure by now Max Glenreed has informed you of his decision to give you full power of attorney in the event of his decline or death. I’d like to make sure we have everything set–”

He went on and on and on, and yet Ash couldn’t seem to pick out one word over the next. All he could do was turn and stare at Max, who was giving him a sheepish little shrug while looking for all the world like he wanted to cry.

Ash wanted to cry too.

He found himself nodding and saying yes a lot. Agreeing to things he’d never considered even thinking about. There was a bubbling anger at Max that he would do this without even talking to Ash, and then there was a deep welling of shame when he remembered that Max __had__ tried to talk to him about it, and every time Ash shut him down.

Eventually, the phone call ended. Ash set his cell on the counter next to the sink and tried to ignore the way his hands were starting to shake.

“So...were you gonna tell me about that? That I...”

“I tried…” Max started. He looked at the ground and raised a hand to the back of his neck, scratching in that one spot like he always did when he got anxious.

“Fuck, I know you tried but...fuck, Max. Power of attorney? Fuck. I can’t do this?”

“You kind of just agreed–”

“What the fuck was I supposed to say? Oh my god.” Ash turned to the sink and gripped the edges, trying to breathe as a wash of panic threatened to overtake him. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Max. Oh my god…”

Max came up behind him, closing a hand around Ash’s and hugging him tight.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m really sorry. I don’t have anyone else, I didn’t know what to do, and...fuck.”

Ash could feel Max’s heart beating against his back, quick, and fluttery, and nervous.

“I’m scared, Ash.” Nuzzling his nose against Ash’s neck, his voice sounded muffled and quiet. “I wasn’t before,” Max finally continued. “I wasn’t scared. And then you came, and then...just...I’m sorry.” His voice broke, and Max drew in a deep breath and then started crying.

Ash turned, blinking away his own tears, and pulled Max into a hug. They stood there, swaying gently, the warm September heat filling the garage around them. Ash was biting down so hard his teeth were sore, and he squeezed his eyes closed as hard as he could, and it still didn’t help anything. Max’s tears were soaking into his shirt, and he was dying.

Max was dying.

Their time had been used up a month ago–every day they’d had since then was more than Ash should have ever had, but he couldn’t be thankful. All he had was anger, and shame, and guilt, and fear.

And all he could do was hold Max while he cried, and try not to think about how their clock was up and any moment might be their last.

They got the documents signed and worked up. Max didn’t want a funeral. He didn’t want to be on life support. He wanted to die, and be buried at the little Cemetery out on 14th street because he had grandparents on his mom’s side who had plots there and he remembered the smell of their house, and the way they’d give him tiny strawberry shaped candies if he was good, and the way they had a cat who wound around his feet and was never afraid.

Max paid off his mom’s trailer in the park and set aside a tiny trust for her for when she got out of prison.

“I hate her,” he’d told Ash with a laugh, “but she kept me alive for a while, so I guess I owe her something.”

Everything else was Ash’s.

As soon as the paperwork was done, they took off for Grand Forks in the Chevelle. Ash drove this time, because Max was now on a string of constant painkillers and wasn’t in any condition to be driving.

They got McDonalds.

They went back to that same park they’d walked through–months ago. The Cancer Center of North Dakota still loomed over everything, and Ash just tried his best not to look.

The walk was shorter. Max only made it as far as the water before needing to sit down.

Ash didn’t mind too much–it was cold, and windy, and he tucked in next to Max, laying his head against Max’s shoulder, and just listened to the way his heart sounded against the walls of his chest.

Strong.

Still strong.

When they drove back. Max fell asleep with his head against the window, and Ash reached over and held his hand.

That night, they held each other in bed–Ash with one hand brushing against the side of Max’s jaw, Max just staring into Ash’s eyes and smiling. It was silent in the room–the AC didn’t need to run because it was so cold outside. They lay that way in the dark for so long that the sliver of moonlight through the curtains moved from one side of Ash all the way to the otherside of Max before finally slipping off the bed entirely.

Max closed his eyes.

And then Ash watched him sleep as long as he could before he fell asleep too.

***

The next morning they got up, showered together, made coffee, sipped at it, laughed, kissed. There was a flicker of pain in Max’s eyes as he pulled back, and Ash asked him if he felt alright.

Then Max collapsed.

Ash remained oddly calm as the paramedics came. He stayed out of the way and watched as they loaded Max up, watched as they padded blankets around him and started an IV.

He rode with them to the hospital and all he could think about was how peaceful Max looked–passed out beneath the heavy haze of drugs–and how uncomfortable the metal bench was. He was breathing, but it didn’t feel real, it didn’t feel like air. One of the paramedics said something to him and Ash just watched as his mouth moved, unable to make out any sound from the steady buzzing static in his ears.

The hospital was a kind of crazy Ash wasn’t prepared to deal with. He’d broken a few fingers when he was ten, but going to the hospital wasn’t anything they could afford, and it was just a few fingers. When Griff OD’d, they’d taken him away in a body bag.

Ash never been inside this hospital, and when the doctors and nurses whisked Max away leaving Ash alone in the lobby, he had a hard time breathing.

He found a seat out of the way, pulled his knees to his chest, thumbed his hoody over his head, and pressed his eyes against the top of his knees as hard as he possibly could, wishing for all the world that he had thought to bring his phone so he could at least listen to music.

“Sweetheart?”

Ash looked up into the eyes of the receptionist. “Sorry, uh...sorry, I can’t wait–”

“No, you’re in the right place.” Her eyes narrowed as she took all of him in–his piercings, his torn clothing, his greasy hair. “I just wanted to let you know that there is coffee around the corner,” she pointed, “and that someone will come to get you as soon as you are able to go back. Alright?”

Ash nodded, then looked away. He’d been so calm this entire time, and yet his eyes were suddenly starting to water in a horrible show of betrayal.

She crossed her arms and made some sort of judgemental ‘tutting’ sound, then walked back to the desk.

A mom came in with a screaming toddler, blood stained bandaging pressed against his head. Her eyes frazzled and terrified.

“He fell,” Ash heard her say to the receptionist. “His head!”

A man came through clutching his hand.

Another man came into the counter and started an argument with the receptionist about a bill.

A family walked in with a girl in a softball uniform. She was limping.

Ash watched all of this with completely apathy, unable to think past the tightness in his chest.

He didn’t know what to do.

He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and finally, hours later, he got up and asked.

“Who?” the receptionist asked. It was someone different now–a man with curly blond hair.

“Max Glenreed. He was admitted at 10:56 this morning.” Ash swallowed around that number, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was able to remember it to the minute, but he couldn’t remember what Max was wearing that morning.

“Hmmm….oh! Oh. I’m so sorry, he was moved to the ICU an hour ago.” He looked back up at Ash as though he were expecting Ash to say something.

“Uh...okay, uh...can I go there? Am I allowed to be there?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course, as long as he’s stable. I’ll put in a call to the nurse, alright?”

Ash nodded, that swollen, about-to-cry-feeling back.

Eventually, a nurse in dark blue scrubs appeared and led him down the hall, through a door that needed a key card to enter, down another hall, down another hall, through another door, and then to a room with a light brown door that was marked 107 on a sterile silver plaque.

“He’s awake,” she said with a smile. Her coiled dark hair was piled up on her head and every time she moved, the little curls bounced.

“Can I?”

“Of course! Go ahead in.”

She led the way, bouncing up to the bedside and tutting over Max, as she pulled the clipboard up from the bed.

Ash followed her, sticking his hands into the pocket of his hoody and biting down on his lower lip so hard it hurt.

Max looked like hell. His skin had been steadily yellowing over the course of the last few weeks, but now the jaundice had set in so hard it made the skin under his eyes look a dark purple, like they were bruised or blackened. There were tubes in and out of his arms, as well as an oxygen tube running across his face and to his nose.

“Hey, kid,” he said, looking over to Ash.

His voice was raw and scratchy, and it didn’t sound anything like him. He gave a small smile though–lips cracked and chapped–and it was so real and genuinely Max that Ash started to cry.

“Oh,” Max said. His eyes fluttered closed a second, then he blinked at Ash again. “Hey, it’s...it’s okay.”

“Just give me five minutes here, and he’s all yours!” the nurse said with a grin as she bent over the bed.

“Yeah,” Ash managed. He pressed the palm of his hand against his mouth and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

It didn’t work.

The tears kept falling, and so he settled for trying to sniffle as quietly as he could and wipe at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Whatever she was doing seemed to take forever, and at one point, she pressed the call button and rattled off a list of numbers and vitals and medications that made no sense to Ash. Finally, she typed up something at the computer, then hurried over to the door.

“The doctor will be in soon,” she said with a smile, then she was gone.

“Hey,” Max said again in that awful scratchy voice.

“Hey.” Ash’s voice broke on the single syllable and he let out a desperate little sob. “You scared me again, you jerk.” He stood up and moved to the side of Max’s bed, then sank down to his knees, grasping Max’s hand in his own. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Max echoed. “Sorry.”

“You always say that. You never change though.”

“Nope.” Max gave another little grin, but then his jaw tensed, the skin around his eyes tightened, and he gasped in pain.

“Fuck,” Ash said again. “Nurse? Call button is–”

Max squeezed his hand tight, then let out a little sigh of breath. “Just...pain…” he murmured through clenched teeth.

“But they can do something for you!”

He didn’t have to respond for Ash to know how stupid that statement was. Ash watched him breathe for a minute, watched his muscles relax again, then Max gave him another small smile.

“I’m dying, kid. This is it. There’s nothing they can do.”

“You’re still talking to me.”

“Liver failure.”

The disjointed statement seemed strange, but Max had closed his eyes again, and didn’t seem entirely all there. Ash just nodded, then mumbled something auditory in agreement.

“Shitty way to die.”

“Yeah,” Ash said. He leaned his head against the sheets and breathed in the sterile smell of hospital. There was nothing left of Max from this morning–not the smell of his minty toothpaste on his breath, or the deodorant he wore. Not the hint of motor oil. Just sterile, clinical, hospital.

He could feel Max breathing against him, and it was too shallow.

Everything was wrong.

Ash’s throat closed up again, and he just kept trying to swallow it down, but before he knew it, he was crying again, sobbing into the sheets.

“It’s okay,” Max murmured.

Ash didn’t answer, and Max just let him cry.

Ash stayed there all day, then slept there all night. He went home for a quick shower, and then drove Max’s truck back again the next morning.

By afternoon, Max was struggling to breathe. They let Ash sit and hold his hand until it got too bad, then the doctors flooded in, and Ash had to wait in the lobby.

By the evening, Max was dead.

He couldn’t stand the thought of having to say goodbye, and so he didn’t.

Max didn’t either.

A nurse came out to ask about organ donation. They’d never talked about it, and Ash didn’t know, and there were so many things he didn’t know, so he just found himself nodding and saying yes like a mechanical animal. Marilyn Manson had an album called Mechanical Animals. Griff used to listen to it.

Griff was dead.

Max was dead.

Ash blinked and time had passed. The nurse was gone.

They asked him if he wanted to go back again and sit with Max.

He didn’t.

The doctor came out to talk to him.

Ash didn’t hear it.

By the time everything was said and done, it was one in the morning. The halls of the hospital were quiet as Ash finally walked towards the entrance. The security guard said goodbye. Ash said goodbye too.

The word didn’t taste as bitter as he thought it might.

He drove back to the auto shop in Max’s truck that still had a half empty bottle of Coke that Max had left there a week ago. It was old, and warm, and had no carbonation, but Ash opened it and took a deep drink just to put his lips somewhere Max’s had been.

Ash let himself in the front door, turned on the light, and looked around.

The bed was still unmade from when they’d lain in it a day and a half ago. There was a half a pot of coffee still sitting by the sink. Two mugs sat next to it–one still full, one half empty. The bathroom door was open, and the light was still on.

There was no sign of Kat.

Ash let out a heavy sigh and grabbed his phone from the side table. Then he turned and walked right back out of the shop. closing and locking the door behind him.

The wind blew at his face and it was too cold for September. It was the sort of wind that remembers winter. Ash shoved his hands in his pockets, then walked back home to the trailer park.


	16. Chapter 16

The wind blew hard, tugging at Ash’s sweater and forcing him to wrap his arms around himself. It was October. The trees should have been still blooming now, but winter had come early this year. The ground was frozen, a hardness that was absolutely unforgiving underneath his black boots.

He was shivering enough that his teeth clacked together, his hair was blowing across his face and into his eyes, and the tiny grey headstone that sunk into the earth at his feet was surrounded by nothing but dead, brown grass.

It was hard to breathe again, around the thick, choking grief that sat in his throat.

Ash had been loved once.

The wind gusted again, and with it, he could feel the icy spray of water droplets just starting to fall.

“Fuck you,” he said, quietly, with almost no emotion at all. It was the memory of a statement he’d made so many times that it almost didn’t matter.

The gravestone didn’t respond. It only began to glimmer as the rain pattered against it.

Ash sank down to his knees, reached out a finger, and began to trace the engraved looping script of a name.

__Max Glenreed_ _

There was nothing else. No date, no epitaph. Just his name, carefully and cleanly carved out of stone.

The idea of bringing fresh flowers to a graveyard seemed ridiculous to Ash–it only took a few days for them to die and there was more than enough death here already. The fabric flowers weren’t much better–these faded in the sun and ended up looking almost as limp and despairing as their counterparts. Still, he’d pushed a tiny vase with a single white fabric rose into the earth at the edge of Max’s headstone, and it was this that he watched as he cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.

“Everything sucks without you here,” Ash started. “I know you don’t want to hear that. But it fucking sucks. Arthur won’t stop texting me again. I can barely step into your fucking auto shop without having a complete meltdown. And being home isn’t any better because then my mom is just hovering over me and talking to me a mile a minute because apparently she thinks that’s the best way to distract me. It’s not. It’s fucking annoying.” Ash sighed as his finger reached the end of Max’s name. He picked it up and started again–right at the top curve of the ‘M’. “I know she’s trying,” he managed, then his voice broke and Ash clenched his teeth together, jaw tight with the strain of not crying.

The wind picked up again, cutting straight through to his skin. Ash wished he’d brought a coat.

Ash wished he didn’t have to be here.

“Goodbye?” he choked out, scrubbing at his eyes. “I never said that. I don’t know if I should have. But I’m saying it now. Goodbye.” He drew in a long breath, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and finally starting to fall.

A couple of rows over, there was an older lady with bright red hair and one of those heavy wool coats bent over another headstone, just like he was. Ash watched as she placed flowers around the edges of the stone. These were real flowers–a whole bunch of them–bright, and cheery, and full of summer.

Ash’s single white rose looked sad against all of the color.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, looking back at Max’s name. “I’m not selling the auto shop. But I’m leaving town for a little bit. Gonna finish fixing up the Chevelle. Get the damn radio working. Then I’m driving as far as I can. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

The edges of the engraved name were warm against his finger from his own body heat. Everything else was cold.

“I love you,” Ash said again. He brought his fingers to his lips, then pressed them against the stone. He stood up, unwound his headphones from his phone and turned up Led Zeppelin as loud as he could. Then he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked back down the path towards the entrance.

It took him a couple of weeks to finish fixing up the Chevelle. He was shit at electrical, and ended up spending entire days watching youtube videos on how to actually work around the wires correctly. Being in Max’s shop alone was wrong, and lonely, and far too quiet. Even Kat came around less and less, sensing the emptiness and loss.

The first time he drove the car through town again, he did it blasting the classic rock station through the newly fixed up radio so loud that people in the cars next to him gave him dirty looks. He didn’t care. It was the best he’d felt since Max had died, and he wasn’t going to let anything change that.

In the middle of October, his mom relapsed and lost almost a thousand dollars at the casino. She cried, and apologized, her eyes red and watery as she swore she’d never do it again.

She would. It was a sickness inside of her that was just as bad as cancer, but there wasn’t much more that Ash could do besides hug her and pay the bills out of the savings account that Max had left him.

He decided to leave the next day.

The trip was supposed to take 23 hours and 15 minutes according to Google Maps. It took closer to 40.

Monatana was a barren hellscape that looked no different from Devil’s Lake until he got most the way through the damn state. Then it turned to lush green, and looping, winding highway that scaled entire mountains. It was enough to take his breath away, even as he got stuck halfway up a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm so bad that even the heavy road truckers had to pull over.

He stayed at a crappy, rundown motel in the middle of nowhere that night, after the Chevelle had skidded out on the snow and ice so many times on him that he was sure his racing heart was going to give out on him at any minute. The light outside his hotel room flickered yellow and buzzed so loud it almost sounded like the cicadas at Max’s place, the bed was rumpled and uncomfortable, the carpets smelled like smoke, but Ash fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The next day he crossed the tip of Idaho and came down from the high altitude into cold air and thankfully no snow. Then he hit Washington, which looked a whole lot different than he’d imagined.

Ash had always figured that anything straight west of North Dakota was just mountains, and green, and lush. Washington was desert dry. He got stopped up on the highway just outside of Spokane because of rolling tumbleweed that was taller than the Chevelle, and when night fell, he could see the glowing eyes of coyotes roaming beside the road. He pushed through the entirety of Washington before stopping for the night right along the edge of the Columbia River. There was a McDonalds right at the edge of the state line, but Ash drove straight past it and picked up Burger King instead. He ate three Whoppers before pulling into a rest stop and sleeping in the car.

The drive through Oregon was so beautiful Ash wanted to cry. He took his time now, opting for the meandering, scenic route that went back to the Washington side and wrapped straight through the gorge. There was a random road-side attraction that advertised for a __Maryville Stonehenge Memorial__ , and he pulled off there, walking around the giant stone replica of the actual Stonehenge and looking far down at the water below. The plaque in the middle of the monument was unavoidable and Ash stepped up to it, reading the script.

__In memory of the soldiers and sailors of Klickitat County who gave their lives in defense of their country. This monument is erected in the hope that others inspired by the example of their valor and their heroism may share in that love of liberty and burn with that fire of patriotism which death can alone quench._ _

It seemed like a very romanticized notion to Ash. Death didn’t quench anything. It just left holes.

He got stuck outside of Portland. The traffic in Grand Forks had seemed crazy to Ash, but Portland was a completely different beast. It took him three hours to get from one side of the city to the other because apparently he’d hit it straight at rush hour, and apparently he was stupid enough to think that rush hour meant waiting through a few traffic lights.

There were so many cars, and so many people. When he pulled off to get gas just outside of the city, an older man sidled up to him and asked him a million and one questions about the car which Ash answered as best as he could, which seemingly wasn’t enough. Eventually the guy took the hint, although not without a long judgemental stare.

It was night again by the time he finally made it to his destination.

Cannon Beach, Oregon.

He’d pulled up various spots along the coast on his phone the night before he’d left North Dakota, but this seemed to be the favorite amongst most. Driving through the downtown area, all Ash could think was that it was touristy, and kitschy, and the sort of thing Max would probably love. He rolled the windows down, and could smell the ocean–salt, and fish, and an openness he’d never experienced before.

Most of the shops were closing by the time he parked, but he wandered through a little boutique that still had it’s lights on. It was full of shells, and rocks, and little sea glass figurines. Ash picked out a cowrie shell that fit in the palm of his hand and had a cat carved into it. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do with it, but it was something Max would have liked, so he forked over the $10 for the souvenir and when the lady behind the counter asked him if he’d like it wrapped, he nodded.

“You visiting?” She asked with a smile.

“Yup.”

“Where from?”

“North Dakota.”

“Oh!” She smiled bigger. “My grandson lives in Fargo. You near there?”

Ash shook his head. “Naa. Small town on the other side of the state.”

“Sounds nice.” She handed over his bag, and he took it, thankful that the conversation required no more of him than that.

As he left the shop, he walked down another lane, then turned left following the signs for the beach.

Then he was there.

Even though it was past 9 at night, and even though it was November and freezing cold, the beach still had people on it. Ash shivered and was more than thankful that he’d worn his hoody, but there were actually guys out in the water, splashing through the waves as they rolled in and whooping in glee.

Ash reached down and took off his shoes and socks, then put them underneath his arm. He wished he’d thought to stop at the car first and stash the little package with the shell there, but he hadn’t, so he awkwardly carried everything with him as he made his way down the slope.

The sand was cold between his toes, and squishy wet where little inlets of water ran. The only light was from the many resorts and cottages that dotted the beach, and that was fine with him. It was so peaceful with the dark all around and the stars up above, that even though there were other people around, he could almost pretend it was just him.

To his left, an enormous rock loomed. And straight ahead,was the hollow sound of lapping waves, and an expanse of darkness. The ocean was bigger than anything he could have ever imagined.

Ash took a deep breath in, then he walked all the way up to where the waves began to wash over his feet.

He closed his eyes. The sand had a way of sucking at his feet, and it was uncomfortable–like the ocean was pulling him in. He grimaced, then relaxed into it. As the waves rolled in, the sand began to coat the tops of his toes.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I made it out.”

A seagull cried above him, and Ash looked up, watching the dark shape of the birds as they circled overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow AgentCoop on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agentcoop1)  
> Follow Salmon on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/sushisalmon95)  
> 


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